THE  FLYING  ISLANDS 

OF  THE  NIGHT 


J6g  the  Same  Butbor. 

XKGHBOKLY  POEMS  ox  FRIENDSHIP,  CHIEF  AM> 
FARM-LIFE — Including  "The  Old  Swimmin' 
Hole"  Series— Exclusively  in  Iloosier  Dia 
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SKETCHES  IN  PROSE— With  Occasional  Poems. 

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PIPES  o'  PAN — Five  Sketches  arid  Fifty  Poems. 

RHYMES  OF  CHILDHOOD  —  Child-Dialect  and 
Other  Verses. 

THE  FLYING  ISLANDS  OF  THE  XKUIT — A  FHIHUS- 
tic  Drama  in  Verse. 


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IN  ENGLAND: 

OLD-FASHIONED  ROSES  —  Poems,    Dialect    and 
Various. 

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THE  FLYING  ISLANDS 

OF  THE  NIGHT 


BY 
JAMES  WHITCOMB  RILEY 


"A  Iliytigf  of  wytchencref — an  idle  Jteme.' 


INDIANAPOLIS 

THE  BOWEN-MERRILL  Co. 
1892 


Copyright  1891 
BY  JAMES  W.  R1LEY 


TO 
MADISON  CAWEIN 


FOR  the  Song's  sake  ;  even  so  : 
Humor  it,  and  let  it  go 
All  untamed  and  -wild  of -a' ing— 
Leave  it  ever  truanting. 

Be  its  flight  elusive.-— Lo, 
For  the  Song's  sake — even  so. 
Yield  it  but  an  ear  as  hind 
As  thou  perkest  to  the  wind. 

Who  will  name  us  what  the  seas 
Have  sung  on  for  centuries  ? 
For  the  Song's  sake!    Even  so — • 
Sing,  O  Seas  !  and  Breezes,  blow  ! 

Sing !  or  Wave  or  IVind  or  Bird- 
Sing!  nor  ever  afterward 
Clear  thy  meaning  to  us — No .' — 
For  the  Song's  sake.     Even  so. 


THE  FLYING  ISLANDS  OF  THE  NIGHT. 

DRAMATIS  PERSONS. 

KRUNG,  King— of  the  Spirks. 

CRESTILLOMEEAA,  The  Queen— Second  Consort  to  Krung. 

SPRAIVOLL,  The  Tune-Fool. 

AMPHINE,  Prince— Son  of  Krung. 

DWAINIE,  A  Princess— of  the  Wunks. 

JUCKLET,  A  Dwarf— of  the  Spirks. 

CREECH  and    \  M.  , , 

Nightmares. 
GRITCHFANG,  J 

Counselors,  Courtiers,  Heralds,  etc.,  etc.,  etc. 


ACT  1. 

SCENE— THE  FLYING  ISLANDS. 

SCENE  I.  Spirkland.  Time,  Moondawn.  Interior  of  Cottrt  of 
KRUNG.  A  vast,  pendant  star  burns  dimly  in  the  dome 
above  the  throne.  CRESTI LLOMEEM  discovered  languidly 
reclining  at  foot  of  empty  throne,  an  overturned  goblet  lying 
near,  as  though  just  drained.  The  Queen  in  seeming  da^ed, 
ecstatic  state,  r aptly  gating  upward  and  listening.  Swarm- 
mg  forms  and  faces,  in  air  above,  seen  eeriely  coming  and 
going,  blending  and  intermingling  in  domed  ceiling-spaces 
of  the  court.  Weird  music.  Mystic,  luminous,  beautiful 
faces  detached  from  swarm,  float,  singly,  forward,  tremu 
lously,  and  in  succession,  poising  in  mid-air  and  chanting. 


THE  FLYING  ISLANDS 

FIRST  FACE. 

.  And  who  hath  known  her — like  as  / 
Have  known  her? — since  the  envying  sky 
Filched  from  her  cheeks  its  morning-hue, 
And  from  her  eyes  its  glory,  too, 
Of  dazzling  shine  and  diamond  dew. 

SECOND  FACE. 

/  knew  her — long  and  long  before 
High  ALo  loosed  her  palm  and  thought: 
"  What  awful  splendor  have  I  wrought 
To  dazzle  earth  and  Heaven,  too ! " 

THIRD  FACE. 

I  knew  her— long  ere  night  was  o'er — 

Ere  Jf.o  yet  conjectured  what ' 

To  fashion  day  of— aye,  before 

He  sprinkled  stars  across  the  floor 

Of  night,  and  swept  that  form  of  mine, 

E'en  as  a  fleck  of  blinded  shine, 

Back  to  the  black  where  light  was  not. 

FOURTH  FACE. 

Ere  day  was  dreamt,  I  saw  her  face 
Lift  from  some  starry  hiding-place 


OF  THE  NIGHT. 

Where  our  old  moon  was  kneeling  while 
She  lit  its  features  with  her  smile. 

FIFTH  FACE. 

1  knew  her  while  these  islands  yet 
Were  nestlings— ere  they  feathered  wing, 
Or  e'en  could  gape  with  them,  or  get 
Apoise  the  laziest-ambling  breeze, 
Or  cheep,  chirp  out,  or  anything ! 
When  Time  crooned  rhymes  of  nurseries 
Above  them— nodded,  dozed  and  slept, 
And  knew  it  not,  till,  wakening, 
The  morning  stars  began  to  sing, 
And  Heaven's  first  tender  iews  were  wept. 

SIXTH  FACE. 

I  knew  her  when  the  jealous  hands 
Of  Angels  set  her  sculptured  form 
Upon  a  pedestal  of  storm 
And  let  her  to  this  land  with  strands 
Of  twisted  lightnings. 

SEVENTH  FACE. 

And  I  heard 
Her  voice  ere  she  could  tone  a  word 


THE  FLYING  ISLANDS 

Of  any  but  the  Seraph-tongue. — 
And  O,  sad-sweeter  than  all  sung 
Or  word-said  things ! — to  hear  her  say, 
Between  the  tears  she  dashed  away:— 
"  Lo,  launched  from  the  offended  sight 
Of  JE.Q ! — anguish  infinite 
Is  ours,  O  Sisterhood  of  Sin  ! 
Yet  is  thy  service  mine  by  right, 
And  sweet  as  I  may  rule  it,  thus 
Shall  Sin's  myrrh-savor  taste  to  us — 
Sin's  Empress— let  my  reign  begin  !  " 

CHORUS  OF  SWARMING  FACES. 

We  follow  thee  forever  on  ! 

Through  darkest  night  and  dimmest  dawn  ; 

Through  storm  and  calm— through  shower  and  shine, 

Hear  thou  our  voices  answering  thine : 
We  follow — craving  but  to  be 
Thy  followers.— We  follow  thee — 
We  follow,  follow,  follow  thee ! 

We  follow  ever  on  and  on— 
O'er  hill  and  hollow,  brake  and  lawn  ; 
Through  gruesome  vale  and  dread  ravine 
Where  light  of  day  is  never  seen. — 


Or  THE  NIGHT. 

We  waver  not  in  loyalty, — 
Unfaltering  we  follow  thee — 
We  follow,  follow,  follow  thee ! 

We  follow  ever  on  and  on  ! 
The  shroud  of  night  around  us  drawn, 
Though  wet  with  mists,  is  wild-ashine 
With  stars  that  light  that  path  of  thine  ;— 

The  glowworms,  too,  befriend  us— we 
Shall  fail  not  as  we  follow  thee. 
We  follow,  follow,  follow  thee ! 

We  follow  ever  on  and  on.— 
The  notched  reeds  we  pipe  upon 
Are  pithed  with  music,  keener  blown 
And  blither  where  thou  leadest  lone — 
Glad  pangs  of  its  ecstatic  glee 
Shall  reach  thee  as  we  follow  thee. 
We  follow,  follow,  follow  thee ! 

We  follow  ever  on  and  on  : 

We  know  the  ways  thy  feet  have  gone, — 

The  grass  is  greener,  and  the  bloom 

Of  roses  richer  in  perfume— 
And  birds  of  every  blooming  tree 
Sing  sweeter  as  we  follow  thee. 
We  follow,  follow,  follow  thee ! 


6  THE  FLYING  ISLANDS 

We  follow  ever  on  and  on  ; 

For  wheresoever  thou  hast  gone 

We  hasten  joyous,  knowing  there 

Is  sweeter  sin  than  otherwhere — 

Leave  still  its  latest  cup,  that  we 
May  drain  it  as  we  follow  thee. 
We  follow,  follow,  follow  thee ! 

[Throughout  final  stanzas,  faces  in  fore-,  and  forms  in  back 
ground,  slowly  vanish,  and  voices  gradually  fail  to  sheer 
silence.  CRESTILLOMEEM  rising,  and  wistfully  gating 
and  listening;  then,  evidently  regaining  wonted  self,  looks 
to  be  assured  of  being  utterly  alone — then  speaks.] 

CRESTILLOMEEM. 

The  Throne  is  throwing  wide  its  gilded  arms 

To  welcome  me.    The  Throne  of  Krung  !    Ha !  ha ! 

Leap  up,  ye  lazy  echoes,  and  laugh  loud ! 

For  1,  Crestillomeem,  the  Queen— ha !   ha ! 

Do  fling  my  richest  mirth  into  your  mouths 

That  ye  may  fatten  ripe  with  mockery  ! 

1  marvel  what  the  kingdom  would  become 

Were  I  not  here  to  nurse  it  like  a  babe 

And  dandle  it  above  the  reach  and  clutch 

Of  intermeddlers  in  the  royal  line 


OF  THE  NIGHT.  ^ 

And  their  attendant  serfs.    Ho !  Jucklet,  ho ! 
'Tis  time  my  knarled  warp  of  nice  anatomy 
Were  here,  to  weave  us  on  upon  our  mesh 
Of  silken  villainies.    Ho!  Jucklet,  ho! 

[Lifts  secret  door  in  pave  and  drops  a  star-bud  through  the 
opening.     Enter  JUCKLET  from  below.~\ 

JUCKLET. 

Spang  sprit!  my  gracious  Queen  !  but  thou  hast  scorched 
My  left  ear  to  a  cinder !  and  my  head 
Rings  like  a  ding-dong  on  the  coast  of  death  ! 
For,  patient  hate !  thy  hasty  signal  burst 
Full  in  my  face  as  hitherward  I  came ! 
But  though  my  lug  be  fried  to  crisp,  and  my 
Singed  wig  stinks  like  a  little  sun-stewed  Wunk, 
I  stretch  my  fragrant  presence  at  thy  feet 
And  kiss  thy  sandal  with  a  blistered  lip, 

CRESTILLOMEEM. 

Hold !  rare-done  fool,  lest  I  may  bid  the  cook 
To  bake  thee  brown  !    How  fares  the  King  by  this? 

JUCKLET. 

I  left  him  sleeping  like  a  quinsied  babe 

Next  the  guest-chamber  of  a  poor  man's  house: 


8  THE  FLYING  ISLANDS 

But  ere  1  came  away  to  rest  mine  ears, 

I  salved  his  welded  lids,  uncorked  his  nose, 

And  o'er  the  odorous  blossom  of  his  lips 

Re-squeezed  the  tinctured  sponge,  and  felt  his  pulse 

Come  staggering  back  to  regularity. 

And  four  hours  hence  his  Highness  will  awake 

And  Peace  will  take  a  nap ! 

CRESTILLOMEEM. 

Ha!    What  mean  you? 

JUCKLET.     [Ominously.] 
1  mean  that  he  suspects  our  knaveries. — 
Some  covert  spy  is  burrowed  in  the  court — 
Nay,  and  I  pray  thee  startle  not  aloud, 
But  mute  thy  very  heart  in  its  out-throb, 
And  let  the  blenching  of  thy  cheeks  but  be 
A  whispering  sort  of  pallor! 

CRESTILLOMEEM. 

A  spy? — Here? 

JUCKLET. 

Aye,  here— and  haply  even  now.    And  one 
Whose  unseen  eye  seems  ever  focused  keen 


OF  THE  NIGHT. 

Upon  our  action,  and  whose  hungering  ear 
Eats  every  crumb  of  counsel  that  we  drop 
In  these  our  secret  interviews ! — For  he — 
The  King — through  all  his  talking-sleep  to-day 
Hath  jabbered  of  intrigue,  conspiracy — 
Of  treachery  and  hate  in  fellowship, 
With  dire  designs  upon  his  royal  bulk, 
To  oust  it  from  the  Throne. 

CRESTILLOMEEM. 

He  spake  my  name? 

JUCKLET. 

O  Queen,  he  speaks  not  ever  but  thy  name 

Makes  melody  of  every  sentence.— Yea, 

He  thinks  thee  even  true  to  him  as  thou 

Art  fickle,  false  and  subtle !     O  how  blind 

And  lame,  and  deaf  and  dumb,  and  worn  and  weak, 

And  faint,  and  sick,  and  all-commodious 

His  dear  love  is ! 

CRESTILLOMEEM. 

Wilt  thou  wind  up  thy  tongue, 
Nor  let  it  tangle  in  a  knot  of  words ! 
What  said  the  King? 


io  THE  FLYING  ISLANDS 

JUCKLET. 

He  said  :     "  Crestillomeem — 
O  that  she  knew  this  great  distress  of  mine ! 
For  she  would  counsel  with  me,  and  her  voice 
Would  flow  in  limpid  wisdom  o'er  my  wounds, 
And,  like  a  love-balm,  lave  my  secret  grief 
And  lull  my  sleepless  heart!  " — And  so  went  on, 
Struggling  all  maudlin  in  the  wrangled  web 
That  well  nigh  hath  cocooned  him  ! 

CRESTILLOMEEM. 

Did  he  yield 

No  hint  of  this  mysterious  distress 
He  needs  must  hold  sequestered  from  his  Queen  ? 
What  said  he  in  his  talking-sleep  by  which 
Some  clue  were  gained  of  how  and  when  and  whence 
His  trouble  came? 

JUCKLET. 

In  one  strange  phase  he  spake 
As  though  some  sprited  lady  talked  with  him. — 
Full  courteously  he  said  :     "  In  woman's  guise 
Thou  comest,  yet  I  think  thou  art,  in  sooth, 
But  woman  in  thy  form.— Thy  words  are  strange 


OF  THE  NIGHT.  II 

And  leave  me  mystified.     I  feel  the  truth 

Of  all  thou  hast  declared,  and  yet  so  vague 

And  shadow-like  thy  meaning  is  to  me, 

I  know  not  how  to  act  to  ward  the  blow 

Thou  sayest  is  hanging  o'er  me  even  now." 

And  then,  with  open  hands  held  pleadingly, 

He  asked,  "  Who  ts  my  foe? " — And  o'er  his  face 

A  sudden  pallor  flashed,  like  death  itself, 

As  though,  if  answer  had  been  given,  it 

Had  fallen  like  a  curse. 

CRESTILLOMEEM. 

I  '11  stake  my  soul 

Thrice  over  in  the  grinning  teeth  of  doom, 
'Tis  Dwainie  of  the  Wunks  who  peeks  and  peers 
With  those  fine  eyes  of  hers  in  our  affairs, 
And  carries  Krung,  in  some  disguise,  these  hints 
Of  our  intent !    See  thou  that  silence  falls 
Forever  on  her  lips,  and  that  the  sight 
She  wastes  upon  our  secret  action  blurs 
With  gray  and  grisly  skum  that  shall  for  aye 
Conceal  us  from  her  gaze  while  she  writhes  blind 
And  fangless  as  the  fat  worms  of  the  grave ! 
Here !  take  this  tuft  of  downy  druze,  and  when 


12  THE  FLYING  ISLANDS 

Thou  comest  on  her,  fronting  full  and  fair, 
Say  "  Sher^ham ! "  thrice,  and  fluff  it  in  her  face. 

JUCKLET. 

Thou  knowest  scanty  magic,  O  my  Queen, 
But  all  thou  dost  is  fairly  excellent — 
An  this  charm  work,  thou  shalt  have  fuller  faith 
Than  still  I  must  withhold. 

[Takes  charm,  with  extravagant  salutation.] 

CRESTILLOMEEM. 

Thou  gibing  knave! 

Thou  thing !    Dost  dare  to  name  my  sorcery 

As  any  trifling  gift?    Behold  what  might 

Be  thine  an  thy  deserving  wavered  not 

In  stable  and  abiding  service  to 

Thy  Queen  !  [She  presses  suddenly  her  palm  upon  his  eyes, 
then  lifts  her  softly-opening  hand  upward,  his  ga^e  fol 
lowing,  where,  slowly  shaping  in  the  air  above  them,  ap 
pears  the  counter-self  of  CRESTILLOMEEM,  clothed  in 
most  radiant  youth,  her  maiden-face  bent  downward  to  a 
moonlit  sward,  where  kneels  a  lover-knight,  flawless  in 
manly  symmetry  and  princely  beauty,— yet  none  other  than 
the  counterpart  of  JUCKLET,  eeriely  and  with  strange 
sweetness  singing,  to  some  curiously-tinkling  instrument,  the 


OF  THE  NIGHT.  13 

praises  of  its  queenly  mistress :  JUCKLET  and  CRESTIL- 
LOMEEM  transfixed  below  and  trancedly  gating  on  theit 
mystic  selves  above.'} 

SEMBLANCE  OF  JUCKLET— SINGS. 

Crcstillomeem  ! 

Crestillomeem ! 

Soul  of  my  slumber!    Dream  of  my  dream! 
Moonlight  may  fall  not  as  goldenly  fair 
As  falls  the  gold  of  thine  opulent  hair- 
Nay,  nor  the  starlight  as  daringly  gleam 
As  gleam  thine  eyes,  'Meema — Crestillomeem  ! — 
Stars  of  the  skies,  'Meetna — 

Cnstillomeem  ! 

SEMBLANCE  OF  CRESTILLOMEEM— SINGS. 

O  Prince  divine  ! 

O  Prince  divine  ! 

Tempt  t/tou  me  not  with  that  sweet  voice  of  thine  ! 
Though  my  proud  brow  bear  the  bla^e  of  a  crown, 
Lo,  at  thy  feet  must  its  glory  bow  down, 
That  from  the  dust  thou  mayest  lift  me  to  shine 
Heaven' d  in  thy  heart's  rapture,  O  Prince  divine  ! — 
Queen  of  thy  love  ever, 

O  Prince  divine ! 


14  THE  FLYING  ISLANDS 

SEMBLANCE  OF  JUCKLET— SINGS. 

Crestillomeem  ! 

Crestillomeem ! 

Our  life  shall  flow  as  a  musical  stream — 
Windingly— placidly  on  shall  it  wend, 
Marged  with  ma^hoora-bloom  banks  without  end — 
Word-birds  shall  call  thee  and  dreamily  scream, 
"  IVhere  dost  thou  cruise,  'Meema — Crestillomeem  ? 
Wtiheraway,  'Meema  ? — 

Crestillomeem  /" 

DUO. 

{Vision  and  voices  gradually  failing  away.~\ 
Crestillomeem  ! 

Crestillomeem  ! 

Soul  of  my  slumber!    Dream  of  my  dream  • 
Star  of  Love's  light,  'Meema — Crestillomeem ! 
Crescent  of  Night,  'Meema.' — 

Crestillomeem  ! 

CRESTILLOMEEM. 

How  now,  thou  clabber-brained  spudge!- 
Thou  squelk ! — thou — 


OF  THE  NIGHT.  15 

JUCKLET. 

Nay,  O  Queen !  contort  me  not 
To  more  condensed  littleness  than  now 
My  shamed  frame  incurreth  on  itself, 
Seeing  what  might  fare  with  it,  didst  thou  will 
Kindly  to  nip  it  with  thy  magic  here, 
And  leave  it  living  in  that  form  i'  the  air, 
Forever  pranking  o'er  the  daisied  sward 
In  wake  of  sandal-prints  that  dint  the  dews 
As  lightly  as,  in  thy  late  maidenhood, 
Thine  own  must  needs  have  done  in  flighting  from 
The  dread  encroachments  of  the  King. 

CRESTILLOMEEM. 

Nay— peace ! 

JUCKLET. 

So  be  it,  O  sweet  Mystic.— But  I  crave 
One  service  of  thy  magic  yet. — Amphine! — 
Breed  me  some  special,  damned  philter  for 
Amphine— the/azr  Amphine!— to  chuck  it  him, 
Some  serenade-tide,  in  a  sodden  slug 
O'  pastry,  'twixt  the  door-crack  and  a  screech 
O'  rusty  hinges. — Hey !  Amphine  the  rare ! — 
And  let  me,  too,  elect  his  doom,  O  Queen !— 


16  THE  FLYING  ISLANDS 

Listed  against  thee,  he,  too,  doubtless  hath 
Been  favored  with  an  outline  of  our  scheme,— 
And  I  would  kick  my  soul  all  over  hell 
If  I  might  juggle  his  fine  figure  up 
In  such  a  shape  as  mine! 

CRESTILLOMEEM. 

Then  this : — When  thou 
Canst  come  upon  him  bent  above  a  flower, 
Or  any  blooming  thing,  and  thou,  arear, 
Shalt  reach  it  first  and,  thwartwise,  touch  it  fair, 
And  with  thy  knuckle  flick  him  on  the  knee, — 
Then — his  fine  form  will  shrink  and  shrivel  up 
As  warty  as  a  toad's— so  hideous, 
Thine  own  shall  seem  a  marvel  of  rare  grace! 
Though  idly  speak'st  thou  of  my  mystic  skill, 
'  Twas  that  which  won  the  King  for  me :  '  T\vas  that 
Bereft  him  of  his  daughter  ere  we  had 
Been  wedded  yet  a  haed :— She  strangely  went 
Astray  one  moonset  from  the  palace-steps— 
She  went — nor  yet  returned. — Was  it  not  strange? — 
She  would  be  wedded  to  an  alien  prince 
The  morrow  midnight— to  a  prince  whose  sire 
/  once  knew,  in  lost  hours  of  lute  and  song, 


OF  THE  NIGHT.  17 

When  he  was  but  a  prince — I  but  a  mouth 
For  him  to  lift  up  sippingly  and  drain 
To  lees  most  ultimate  of  stammering  sobs 
And  maudlin  wanderings  of  blinded  breath. 

JUCKLET.     [Aside.] 

Tu-igg-brcbblets !  but  her  Majesty  hath  speech 
That  doth  bejuice  all  metaphor  to  drip 
And  spray  and  mist  of  sweetness ! 

CRESTILLOMEEM.    {Confusedly.] 

Where  was  1  ? 

O,  aye! — the  princess  went — she  strangely  went  I— 
E'en  as  I  deemed  her  lover-princeling  would 
As  strangely  go,  were  she  not  soon  restored. — 
As  so  he  did : — That  airy  penalty 
The  jocund  Fates  provide  our  love-lorn  wights 
In  this  glad  island  :    So  for  thrice  three  nights 
They  spun  the  prince  his  line  and  marked  him  pay 
It  out  (despite  all  warnings  of  his  doom) 
In  fast  and  sleepless  search  for  her— and  then 
They  tripped  his  fumbling  feet  and  he  fell— UP  !— 
Up!— as  'tis  writ— sheer  past  Heaven's  flinching  walls 
And  topmost  cornices.— Up— up  and  on  ! — 
And  it  is  grimly  guessed  of  those  who  thus 


i£  THE  FLYING  ISLANDS 

For  such  a  term  bemoan  an  absent  love, 
And  so  fall  upwise,  they  must  needs  fall  on— 
And  on  and  on — and  on — and  on — and  on  ! 
Ha!  ha! 

JUCKLET. 

Quahh !  but  the  prince's  holden  breath 
Must  ache  his  throat  by  this !    But,  O  my  Queen, 
What  of  the  princess? — and — 

CRESTILLOMEEM. 

The  princess  ? — Aye — 

The  princess  !  Aye,  she  went — she  strangely  went! 
And  when  the  dainty  vagrant  came  not  back- 
Both  sire  and  son  in  apprehensive  throes 
Of  royal  grief — the  very  Throne  befogged 
In  sighs  and  tears! — when  all  hope  waned  at  last, 
And  all  the  spies  of  Spirkland,  in  her  quest, 
Came  straggling  empty-handed  home  again, — 
Why,  then  the  wise  King  sleeved  his  rainy  eyes 
And  sagely  thought  the  pretty  princess  had 
Strayed  to  the  island's  edge  and  tumbled  off. 
1  could  have  set  his  mind  at  ease  on  that. — 
I  could  have  told  him,  yea,  she  tumbled  off— 
/  tumbled  her ! — and  tumbled  her  so  plump, 


OF  THE  NIGHT.  19 

She  tumbled  in  an  under-island,  then 

Just  slow-unmooring  from  our  own  and  poised 

For  unknown  voyagings  of  flight  afar 

And  all  remote  of  latitudes  of  ours. — 

Aye,  into  that  land  1  tumbled  her,  from  which 

But  one  charm  known  to  art  can  tumble  her 

Back  into  this,  and  that  charm,  guilt  be  praised  ! 

Is  lodged  not  in  the  wit  nor  the  desire 

Of  my  rare  lore. 

JUCKLET. 

Thereinasmuch  find  joy ! 
But  dost  thou  know  that  rumors  flutter  now 
Among  thy  subjects  of  thy  sorceries  ? —  -> 

The  art  being  banned,  thou  knowest ;  or,  unhoused, 
Is  unleashed  pitilessly  by  the  grim, 
Facetious  body  of  the  dridular 
Upon  the  one  who  fain  had  loosed  the  curse 
On  others. — An  my  counsel  be  worth  ought, 
Then  have  a  care  thy  spells  do  not  revert 
Upon  thyself,  nor  yet  mine  own  poor  hulk 
O'  fearsomeness ! 

CRESTILLOMEEM. 

Ha !  ha !  No  vaguest  need 
Of  apprehension  there!— While  Krung  remains— 


20  THE  FLYING  ISLANDS 

[She  abruptly  pauses — startled  first,  then  listening  curiously  and 
•with  awed  interest.  Voice  of  exquisite  melodiousness  and 
fervor  heard  singing. ] 

VOICE. 

When  kings  are  kings,  and  kings  are  men — 
And  the  lonesome  rain  is  raining! — 
O  who  shall  rule  from  the  red  throne  then, 
And  who  shall  covet  the  scepter  when — 

When  the  winds  are  all  complaining? 

When  men  are  men,  and  men  are  kings — 

And  the  lonesome  rain  is  raining! — 
O  who  shall  list  as  the  minstrel  sings 
Of  the  crown's  fiat,  or  the  signet-ring's, 

When  the  winds  are  all  complaining? 

CRESTILLOMEEM. 
Whence  flows  such  sweetness,  and  what  voice  is  that? 

JUCKLET. 

The  voice  of  Spraivoll,  an  mine  ears  be  perked 
And  whetted  o'  late  honied  memories 
Behaunting  the  deserted  purlieus  of 
The  court. 


OF  THE  NIGHT. 

CRESTILLOMEEM. 

And  who  is  Spraivoll,  and  what  song 
Is  that  she  sings  so  blinding  exquisite 
Of  cadenced  mystery? 

JUCKLET. 
Spraivoll— O  Queen,-  - 

Spraivoll  the  Tune-Fool  is  she  called 

By  those  who  meet  her  ere  the  day  long  wanes 

And  naught  but  janiteerlng  sparsely  frets 

The  cushioned  silences  and  stagnant  dusts 

Indifferently  resuscitated  by 

The  drowsy  varlets  in  mock  servitude 

Of  so  refurbishing  the  royal  halls  : 

She  cometh,  alien,  from  Wunkland— so 

Hath  she  deposed  to  divers  questioners 

Who  have  been  smitten  of  her  voice— as  rich 

In  melody  as  she  is  poor  in  caste  and  intellect. 

She  hath  been  roosting,  pitied  of  the  hinds 

And  scullions,  round  about  the  palace  heje 

For  half  a  node. 

CRESTILLOMEEM. 

And  pray,  where  is  she  perched— 
This  wildbird-woman  with  her  wondrous  throat? 


22  THE  FLYING  ISLANDS 

JUCKLET. 

Under  some  dingy  cornice,  like  enough — 
Though  wildbird  she  is  not,  being  plumed  in, 
Not  feathers,  but  one  fustioned  stole — the  like 
Of  which  so  shameth  her  fair  face  one  needs 
Must  swear  some  lusty  oaths,  but  that  they  shape 
Themselves  full  gentlewise  in  mildest  prayer:  — 
Not  wildbird;— nay,  nor  woman— though,  in  truth, 
She  is  a  licensed  idiot,  and  drifts 
About,  as  restless  and  as  useless,  too, 
As  any  lazy  breeze  in  summertime. 
I  Ml  call  her  forth  to  greet  your  Majesty. 
Ho  !  Spraivoll !  Ho  !  my  twittering  birdster,  flit 
Thou  hither. 
[Enter  SPRAIVOLL— from  behind  group  ofstatnarr — singing.] 

SPRAIVOLL. 

Ting-aling !  Ling-ting!  Tingle-tee! 
The  moon  spins  round  and  round  for  me! 
Wind  it  up  with  a  golden  key. 
Ting-aling  !    Ling-ting  !    Tingle-tee  ! 

CRESTILLOMEEM. 
Who  art  thou,  and  what  the  strange 
Elusive  beauty  and  intent  of  thy 


OF  THE  NIGHT.  23 

Sweet  song?    What  singest  thou,  vague,  mystic-bird — 
What  doth  the  Tune-Fool  sing?    Aye,  sing  me  what. 

SPRAIVOLL.    {.Singing.'} 

What  sings  the  breene  on  the  \vertling-vine, 

And  the  tweck  on  the  bamner-stem  ? 
Their  song,  to  me,  is  the  same  as  mine, 

As  mine  is  the  same  to  them— to  them  — 
As  mine  is  the  same  to  them. 

In  star-starved  glooms  where  the  plustre  looms 

With  its  slender  boughs  above, 
Their  song  sprays  down  with  the  fragrant  blooms,— 

And  the  song  they  sing  is  love — is  love — - 
And  the  song  they  sing  is  love. 

JUCKLET. 

Your  Majesty  may  be  surprised  somewhat, 
But  Spraivoll  can  not  talk,  her  only  mode 
Of  speech  is  melody  ;  and  thou  mightst  put 
The  dowered  fool  a  thousand  queries,  and, 
In  like  return,  receive  a  thousand  songs, 
All  set  to  differing  tunes— as  full  of  naught 
As  space  is  full  of  emptiness. 


24  THE  FLYING  ISLANDS 

CRESTILLOMEEM. 

A  fool?— 

And  with  a  gift  so  all-divine  ! — A  fool? 

JUCKLET. 

Aye,  warranted!— The  Flying  Islands  all 

Might  flock  in  mighty  counsel— moult,  and  shake 

Their  loosened  feathers,  and  sort  every  tuft, 

Nor  ever  most  minutely  quarry  there 

One  other  Spraivoll,  itching  with  her  voice 

Such  favored  spot  of  cuticle  as  she 

Alone  selects  here  in  our  blissful  realm. 

CRESTILLOMEEM. 

Out,  jester,  on  thy  cumbrous  wordiness ! 
Come  hither,  Tune-Fool,  and  be  not  afraid, 
For  1  like  fools  so  well  I  married  one: 
And  since  thou  art  a  Qjtcen  of  fools,  and  he 
A  King,  why,  I've  a  mind  to  bring  you  two 
Together  in  some  wise.    Canst  use  thysong 
All  times  in  such  entrancing  spirit,  one 
Who  lists  must  so  needs  list,  e'en  though  the  song 
Go  on  unceasingly  indefinite? 


OF  THE  NIGHT.  25 

SPRAIVOLL.    [singing.] 

If  one  should  ask  me  for  a  song, 
Then  I  should  answer,  and  my  tongue 

Would  twitter,  trill  and  troll  along 
Until  the  song  were  done. 

Or  should  one  ask  me  for  my  tongue, 
And  I  should  answer  with  a  song, 

I  'd  trill  it  till  the  song  were  sung, 
And  troll  it  all  along. 

CRESTILLOA\EEM. 

Thou  art  indeed  a  fool,  and  one,  1  think, 
To  serve  my  present  purposes.    Give  ear.  — 
And  Jucklet,  thou,  go  to  the  King  and  bide 
His  waking :  then  repeat  these  words  :— "  The  Qticen 
Impatiently  awaits  fits  Majesty, 
And  craves  his  presence  in  the  Tower  of  Stars, 
That  she  may  there  express  full  tenderly 
Her  great  solicitude.''''     And  then,  end  thus, — 
"  So  much  she  bade,  and  drooped  her  gloving  face 
Deep  in  the  shower  ings  of  her  golden  hair, 
And  with  a  flashing  gesture  of  her  arm 
Turned  all  the  moonlight  pallid,  saying,  'Haste  !  '  " 
3 


26  THE  FLYING  ISLANDS 

JUCKLET. 

And  would  it  not  be  well  to  hang  a  pearl 
Or  twain  upon  thy  silken  lashes  ? 

CRESTILLOMEEM. 

Go!     [Exit  Juckltt.'] 

Now,  Tune-Fool,  let  me  give  thee  topic  for 
A  song  :     An  Empress  once,  with  angel  in 
Her  face  and  devil  in  her  heart,  had  wish 
To  breed  confusion  to  her  sovereign  lord, 
And  work  the  downfall  of  his  haughty  son — 
The  issue  of  a  former  marriage — who 
Bellowsed  her  hatred  to  the  whitest  heat, 
For  that  her  own  son,  by  a  former  lord, 
Was  born  a  hideous  dwarf,  and  reared  aside 
From  the  sire's  knowing  or  his  own — 
That  none,  in  sooth,  might  ever  chance  to  guess 
The  hapless  mother  of  the  hapless  child. 
The  Fiends  that  scar  her  thus,  protect  her  still 
With  outward  beauty  of  both  face  and  form. — 
It  is  so  written,  and  must  so  remain 
Till  magic  greater  than  their  own  is  found 
To  hurl  against  her.    So  is  she  secure 
And  proof  above  all  fear.     Soh  !  listen  well ! — 


OF  THE  NIGHT.  27 

Her  present  lord  is  haunted  with  a  dream 

That  he  is  soon  to  die,  and  so  prepares 

(/111  havoc  hath  been  wrangled  with  the  drugs!') 

The  Throne  for  the  ascension  of  the  son, 

His  cursed  heir,  who  still  doth  baffle  all 

Her  arts  against  him,  e'en  as  though  he  were 

Protected  by  a  skill  beyond  her  own. 

Soh  !  she,  the  Queen,  doth  rule  the  King  in  all 

Save  this  affectionate  perversity 

Of  favor  for  the  son  whom  he  would  raise 

To  his  own  place.— And  but  for  this  the  King 

Long  since  had  tasted  death  and  kissed  his  fate 

As  one  might  kiss  a  bride !     But  so  his  Queen 

Must  needs  withhold,  not  deal,  the  final  blow, 

She  yet  doth  bind  him,  spelled,  still  trusting  her ; 

And,  by  her  craft  and  wanton  flatteries, 

Doth  sway  his  love  to  every  purpose  but 

The  one  most  coveted.— And  for  this  end 

She  would  make  use  of  thee  ;— and  if  thou  dost 

Her  will,  as  her  good  pleasure  shall  direct, 

Why,  thou  shalt  sing  at  court,  in  silken  tire, 

Thy  brow  bound  with  wild  diamonds,  and  thy  hair 

Sown  with  such  gems  as  laugh  hysteric  lights 

From  glittering  quespar,  guenk  and  plennocynth,— 


28  THE  I- LYING  ISLANDS 

Aye,  even  panoplied  as  might  the  fair 
Form  of  a  very  princess  be,  thy  voice 
Shall  woo  the  echoes  of  the  listening  Throne. 

SPRAIVOLL.     \_Crooning  abstractedly.'] 

And  O !  shall  one — high  brother  of  the  air, 

In  deeps  of  space — shall  he  have  dream  as  fair? — 

And  shall  that  dream  be  this? — In  some  strange  place 

Of  long-lost  lands  he  finds  her  waiting  face — 

Comes  marveling  upon  it,  unaware, 

Set  moonwise  in  the  midnight  of  her  hair, 

And  is  behaunted  with  old  nights  of  May, 

So  his  glad  lips  do  purl  a  roundelay 

Purloined  from  the  echo-triller's  beak, 

Seen  keenly  notching  at  some  star's  blanch  cheek 

With  its  ecstatic  twitterings,  through  dusk 

And  sheen  of  dewy  boughs  of  bloom  and  musk. 

For  him,  Love,  light  again  the  eyes  of  her 

That  show  nor  tears,  nor  laughter,  nor  surprise— 

For  him  undim  their  glamour  and  the  blur 

Of  dreams  drawn  from  the  depths  of  deepest  skies. 

He  doth  not  know  if  any  lily  blows 

As  fair  of  feature,  nor  of  any  rose. 


OF  THE  NIGHT.  29 

CRESTILLOMEEM.    [Aside.] 

O  tliis  weird  woman !  she  doth  drug  mine  ears 
With  her  uncanny  sumptuousness  of  song!, 
\_ToSpraivolI.~]  Nay,  nay!  Give  o'er  thy  tuneful  maunder- 

ings 

And  mark  me  further,  Tune-Fool — aye,  and  well : — 
At  present  doth  the  King  lie  in  a  sleep 
Drug-wrought  and  deep  as  death — the  after-phase 
Of  an  unconscious  state,  in  which  each  act 
Of  his  throughout  his  waking  hours  is  so 
Rehearsed,  in  manner,  motion,  deed  and  word, 
Her  spies  (the  Queen's)  that  watch  him,  serving  there 
As  guardians  o'er  his  royal  slumbers,  may 
Inform  her  of  her  lord's  most  secret  thought. 
And  lo,  her  plans  have  ripened  even  now 
Till,  should  he  come  upon  his  Throne  to-night, 
Where  eagerly  his  counselors  will  bide 
His  coming,— she,  the  Queen,  hath  reason  to 
Suspect  her  long-designed  purposes 
May  fall  in  jeopardy ; — but  if  he /«*'/, 
Through  any  means,  to  lend  his  presence  there, — 
Then,  by  a  wheedled  mandate,  is  his  Qjteen 
Empowered  with  all  Sovereignty  to  reign 
And  work  the  royal  purposes  instead. 


30  THE  FLYING  ISLANDS 

Therefore,  the  Queen  hath  set  an  interview — 

A  conference  to  be  holden  with  the  King, 

Which  is  ordained  to  fall  on  noon  to-night, 

Twelve  star-twirls  ere  the  nick  the  Throne  convenes. — 

And  with  her  thou  shalt  go,  and  bide  in  wait 

Until  she  signal  thee  to  sing  ;  and  then 

Shalt  thou  so  work  upon  his  mellow  mood 

With  that  unSpirkly  magic  of  thy  voice — 

So  all  bedaze  his  waking  thought  with  dreams, — 

The  Queen  may,  all  unnoticed,  slip  away, 

And  leave  thee  singing  to  a  throneless  King. 

SPRAIVOLL.    [Singing.'] 

And  who  shall  sing  for  the  haughty  son 
While  the  good  King  droops  his  head? — 

And  will  he  dream,  when  the  song  is  done, 
That  a  princess  fair  lies  dead  ? 

CRESTILLOMEEM. 

The  haughty  son  hath  found  his  "  Song  " — sweet  curse  l- 

And  may  she  sing  his  everlasting  dirge ! 

She  comes  from  that  near-floating  land  of  thine, 

Naming  herself  a  princess  of  that  realm 

So  strangely  peopled  we  would  fain  evade 

All  mergence,  and  remain  as  strange  to  them 


OF  THE  NIGHT.  31 

As  they  to  us.    No  less  this  Dwainie  hath 

Most  sinuously  writhed  and  lithed  her  way 

Into  court-favor  here — hath  glidden  past 

The  King's  encharmed  sight  and  sleeked  herself 

Within  the  very  altars  of  his  house — 

His  line— his  blood— his  very  \\te:—AMPHWE! 

Not  any  Spirkland  gentlemaiden  might 

Aspire  so  high  as  she  hath  dared  to  dare  !— 

For  she,  with  her  fair  skin  and  finer  ways, 

And  beauty  second  only  to  the  Queen's, 

Hath  caught  the  Prince  betwixt  her  mellow  palms 

And  stroked  him  flutterless.    Didst  ever  thou 

In  thy  land  hear  of  Dwainie  of  the  Wunks  ? 

SPRAIVOLL.    [Singing.] 

Ay,  Dwainie!    My  Dwainie! 

The  lurloo  ever  sings, 
A  tremor  in  his  flossy  crest 

And  in  his  glossy  wings. 
And  Dwainie ! — My  Dwainie ! 

The  winno-welvers  call  ;— 
But  Dwainie  hides  in  Spirkland 

And  answers  not  at  all. 


32  THE  FLYING  ISLANDS 

The  teeper  twitters  Dwainie!— 

The  tcheucker  on  his  spray 
Teeters  up  and  down  the  wind 

And  will  not  fly  away : 
And  Dwainie! — My  Dwainie! 

The  drowsy  oovers  drawl ; — 
But  Dwainie  hides  in  Spirkland 

And  answers  not  at  all. 

O  Dwainie! — My  Dwainie! 

The  breezes  hold  their  breath — 
The  stars  are  pale  as  blossoms, 

And  the  night  as  still  as  death  : 
And  Dwainie! — My  Dwainie! 

The  fainting  echoes  fall ; — 
But  Dwainie  hides  in  Spirkland 

And  answers  not  at  all. 

CRESTILLOMEEM. 

A  melody  ecstatic  !  and  thy  words, 

Although  so  meaningless,  seem  something  more- 

A  vague  and  shadowy  something,  eerie-like, 

That  maketh  one  to  shiver  over-chilled 

With  curious,  creeping  sweetnesses  of  pain, 


OF  THE  NIGHT.  33 

And  catching  breaths  that  flutter  tremulous 

With  sighs  that  dry  the  throat  out  icily.— 

But  save  thy  music !    Come !  that  I  may  make 

Thee  ready  for  thy  royal  auditor.  [Exeunt.} 

END  ACT  1. 


34  THE  FLYING  ISLANDS 


ACT  II. 

SCENE  1 1.  A  garden  of  KRUNO'S  Palace,  screened  from  the 
moon  with  netted  glenk-vines  and  blooming  tfioomer-boughs, 
all  glimmeringly  lighted  with  star-flakes.  An  arbor,  near 
which  is  a  table  spread  with  a  repast — two  seats,  drawn 
either  side.  A  playing  fountain,  at  marge  of  which  AM- 
PHINE  sits  thrumming  a  trentoraine. 

AM  RHINE,     \_lmprovising.~} 

Ah,  help  me !  but  her  face  and  brow 
Are  lovelier  than  lilies  are 
Beneath  the  light  of  moon  and  star 
That  smile  as  they  are  smiling  now — 
White  lilies  in  a  pallid  swoon 
Of  sweetest  white  beneath  the  moon- 
White  lilies,  in  a  flood  of  bright 
Pure  lucidness  of  liquid  light 
Cascading  down  some  plenilune, 
When  all  the  azure  overhead 
Blooms  like  a  dazzling  daisy-bed. — 
So  luminous  her  face  and  brow, 


OF  THE  NIGHT.  35 

The  luster  of  their  glory,  shed 
In  memory,  even,  blinds  me  now. 

[Plaintively  addressing  instrument. ] 

O  warbling  strand  of  silver,  where,  O  where 

Hast  thou  unraveled  that  sweet  voice  of  thine 

And  left  its  silken  murmurs  quavering 

In  limp  thrills  of  delight?    O  golden  wire, 

Where  hast  thou  spilled  thy  precious  twinkerings? — 

What  thirsty  ear  hath  drained  thy  melody, 

And  left  me  but  a  wild,  delirious  drop 

To  tincture  all  my  soul  with  vain  desire? 

[Improvising.] 

Her  face — her  brow— her  hair  unfurled  I— 
And  O  the  oval  chin  below, 
Carved,  like  a  cunning  cameo, 
With  one  exquisite  dimple,  swirled 
With  swimming  shine  and  shade,  and  whirled 
The  daintiest  vortex  poets  know — 
The  sweetest  whirlpool  ever  twirled 
By  Cupid's  finger-tip, — and  so, 
The  deadliest  maelstrom  in  the  world. 
[Pauses. — Enter  DWAINIE  wiper ceived.'] 


36  THE  FLYING  ISLANDS 

AMPH1NE.     [Again  addressing  instrument. ~\ 

O  Trentoraine !  how  like  an  emptied  vase 

Thou  art — whose  clustering  blooms  of  song  have  drooped 

And  faded,  one  by  one,  and  fallen  away, 

And  left  to  me  but  dry  and  tuneless  stems, 

And  crisp  and  withered  tendrils  of  a  voice 

Whose  thrilling  tone,  now  like  a  throttled  sound, 

Lies  stifled,  faint,  and  gasping  all  in  vain 

For  utterance. 

[Again  improvising.] 
And  O  mad  wars  of  blinding  blurs 
And  flashings  of  lance-blades  of  light, 
Whet  glitteringly  athwart  the  sight 
That  dares  confront  those  eyes  of  hers ! 
Let  any  dew-drop  soak  the  hue 
Of  any  violet  through  and  through, 
And  then  be  colorless  and  dull, 
Compared  with  eyes  so  beautiful ! 
I  swear  ye  that  her  eyes  be  bright 
As  noonday,  yet  as  dark  as  night — 
As  bright  as  be  the  burnished  bars 
Of  rainbows  set  in  sunny  skies, 
And  yet  as  deep  and  dark,  her  eyes, 
And  lustrous  black  as  blown-out  stars. 


OF  THE  NIGHT.  37 

[Pauses — DWAINIE  still  tmperceived,  radiantly  smiling  and 
wafting  kisses  down  from  trellis-window  above.] 

AMPHINE.     [Again  to  instrument.] 

O  empty  husk  of  song  ! 
If  deep  within  my  heart  the  music  thou 
Hast  stored  away  might  find  an  issuance, 
A  fount  of  limpid  laughter  would  leap  up 
And  gurgle  from  my  lips,  and  all  the  winds 
Would  revel  with  it,  riotous  with  joy ; 
And  Dwainie,  in  her  beauty,  would  lean  o'er 
The  battlements  of  night,  and,  like  the  moon, 
The  glory  of  her  face  would  light  the  world — 
For  I  would  sing  of  love. 

DWAINIE. 

And  she  would  hear, — 
And,  reaching  overhead  among  the  stars, 
Would  scatter  them  like  daisies  at  thy  feet. 

AMPHINE. 
O  voice,  where  art  thou  floating  on  the  air? — 

0  Seraph-soul,  where  art  thou  hovering? 

DWAINIE. 

1  hover  in  the  zephyr  of  thy  sighs, 

And  tremble  lest  thy  love  for  me  shall  fail 


38  THE  FLYING  ISLANDS 

To  buoy  me  thus  forever  on  the  breath 
Of  such  a  dream  as  Heaven  envies. 

AMPHINE. 

Ah! 

[Turning,  discovers  DWAINIE — she  feigning  still  invisibility, 
while  he,  with  lifted  eyes  and  wistful  ga^e,  preludes  with 
instrument — then  sings.  ] 

Linger,  my  Dwainie!  Dwainie,  lily-fair, 
Stay  yet  thy  step  upon  the  casement-stair — 
Poised  be  thy  slipper-tip  as  is  the  tine 
Of  some  still  star. — Ah,  Dwainie— Dwainie  mine, 
Yet  linger — linger  there  ! 

Thy  face,  O  Dwainie,  lily-pure  and  fair, 
Gleams  i'  the  dusk,  as  in  thy  dusky  hair 
The  moony  zhoomer  glimmers,  or  the  shine 
Of  thy  swift  smile. — Ah,  Dwainie — Dwainie  mine, 
Yet  linger — linger  there! 

With  lifted  wrist,  whereround  the  laughing  air 
Hath  blown  a  mist  of  lawn  and  claspt  it  there, 
Waft  finger-thipt  adieus  that  spray  the  wine 
Of  thy  waste  kisses  to'rd  me,  Dwainie  mine  — 
Yet  linger — linger  there! 


OF  THE  NIGHT.  39 

What  unloosed  splendor  is  there  may  compare 
With  thy  hand's  unfurled  glory,  anywhere? 
What  glint  of  dazzling  dew  or  jewel  fine 
May  mate  thine  eyes? — Ah,  Dwainie — Dwainie  mine! 
Yet  linger — linger  there ! 

My  soul  confronts  thee :  On  thy  brow  and  hair 
It  lays  its  tenderness  like  palms  of  prayer — 
It  touches  sacredly  those  lips  of  thine 
And  swoons  across  thy  spirit,  Dwainie  mine, 
The  while  thou  lingerest  there. 
[Drops  trentoraine,  and,  with  open  arms,  ga^es  yearningly 

on  DWAINIE.] 

DWAINIE. 

O 

Thy  words  do  wing  my  being  dovewise ! 

AMPHINE. 

Then, 

Thou  lovest! — O  my  homing  dove,  veer  down 
And  nestle  in  the  warm  home  of  my  breast! 
So  empty  are  mine  arms,  so  full  my  heart, 
The  one  must  hold  thee,  or  the  other  burst. 

DWAINIE.     [Throwing  herself  in  his  embrace,] 
^Eo's  own  hand  methinks  hath  flung  me  here: 
O  hold  me  that  He  may  not  pluck  me  back. 


40  THE  FL  YING  ISLANDS 

AMPHINE. 

So  closely  will  1  hold  thee  that  not  e'en 
The  hand  of  death  shall  separate  us. 

DWAINIE. 

So 

May  sweet  death  find  us,  then,  that,  woven  thus 
In  the  corolla  of  a  ripe  caress, 
We  may  drop  lightly,  like  twin  plustre-buds, 
On  Heaven's  star-strewn  lawn. 

AMPHINE. 

So  do  1  pray. 

But  tell  me,  tender  heart,  an  thou  dost  love, 
Where  hast  thou  loitered  for  so  long? — for  thou 
Didst  promise  tryst  here  with  me  earlier  by 
Some  several  layodemes,  which  I  have  told 
Full  chafingly  against  my  finger-tips 
Till  the  full  complement,  save  three,  are  ranged 
Thy  pitiless  accusers,  claiming,  each, 
So  many  as  their  joined  number  be 
Shalt  thou  so  many  times  lift  up  thy  lips 
For  mine's  most  lingering  forgiveness. 
So,  save  thee,  O  my  Sweet !  and  rest  thee,  I 
Have  ordered  merl  and  viands  to  be  brought 


OF  THE  NIGHT.  41 

For  our  refreshment  here,  where,  thus  alone, 

I  may  sip  words  with  thee  as  well  as  wine. 

Why  hast  thou  kept  me  so  athirst? — Why,  I 

Am  jealous  of  the  flattered  solitudes 

In  which  thou  walkest.  {They  sit  at  table.'] 

DWAINIE. 

Nay,  I  will  not  tell, 

Since,  an  I  yielded,  countless  questions,  like 
In  idlest  worth,  would  waste  our  interview 
In  speculations  vain. — Let  this  suffice: — 
I  stayed  to  talk  with  one  whom,  long  ago, 
I  met  and  knew,  and  grew  to  love,  forsooth, 
In  dreamy  Wunkland. — Talked  of  mellow  nights, 
And  long,  long  hours  of  golden  olden  times, 
When  girlish  happiness  locked  hands  with  me 
And  we  went  spinning  round,  with  naked  feet 
In  swaths  of  bruised  roses  ankle-deep  ; 
When  laughter  rang  unsilenced,  unrebuked, 
And  prayers  went  unremembered,  oozing  clean 
From  the  drowsed  memory,  as  from  the  eyes 
The  pure,  sweet  mother-face  that  bent  above 
Glimmered  and  wavered,  blurred,  bent  closer  still 
A  timeless  instant,  like  a  shadowy  flame, 


42  THE  FLYING  ISLANDS 

Then  flickered  tremulously  o'er  the  brow, 
And  went  out  in  a  kiss. 

AMPHINE.     [Kissing  her.'} 
Not  like  to  this! 

O  blessed  lips  whose  kiss  alone  may  be 
Sweeter  than  their  sweet  speech  !     Speak  on,  and  say 
Of  what  else  talked  thee  and  thy  friend? 

DWAINIE. 

We  talked 

Of  all  the  past,  ah  me !  and  all  the  friends 

That  now  await  my  coming.    And  we  talked 

Of  O  so  many  things — so  many  things — 

That  I  but  blend  them  all  with  dreams  of  when, 

With  thy  warm  hand  clasped  close  in  this  of  mine, 

We  cross  the  floating  bridge  that  soon  again 

Will  span  the  all-unfathomable  gulfs 

Of  nether  air  betwixt  this  isle  of  strife 

And  my  most  glorious  realm  of  changeless  peace, 

Where  summer  night  reigns  ever  and  the  moon 

Hangs  ever  ripe  and  lush  with  radiance 

Above  a  land  where  roses  float  on  wings 

And  fan  their  fragrance  out  so  lavishly 

That  Heaven  hath  hint  of  it,  and  oft  therefrom 


OF  THE  NIGHT.  43 

Sends  down  to  us  across  the  odorous  seas 
Strange  argosies  of  interchanging  bud 
And  blossom,  spice  and  balm. — Sweet — sweet 
Beyond  all  art  and  wit  of  uttering. 

AMPHINE. 

O  Empress  of  my  listening  Soul,  speak  on, 
And  tell  me  all  of  that  rare  land  of  thine  ! — 
For  even  though  I  reigned  a  peerless  king 
Within  mine  own,  methinks  I  could  fling  down 
My  scepter,  signet,  crown  and  royal  might, 
And  so  fare  down  the  thorned  path  of  life 
If  at  its  dwindling  end  my  feet  might  touch 
Upon  the  shores  of  such  a  land  as  thou 
Dost  paint  for/ne — thy  realm  !     Tell  on  of  it — 
And  tell  me  if  thy  sister-woman  there 
Is  like  to  thee — \et  nay!  for  if  thou  didst, 
These  eyes  would  lose  all  speech  of  sight 
And  call  not  back  to  thine  their  utter  love. 
But  tell  me  of  thy  brothers. — Are  they  great, 
And  can  they  grapple  ^Eo's  arguments 
Beyond  our  skill?  or  wrest  a  purpose  from 
The  pink  side  of  the  moon  at  Darsten-tide? 
Or  cipher  out  the  problem  of  blind  stars, 


44  THE  FLYING  ISLANDS 

That  ever  still  do  safely  grope  their  way 
Among  the  thronging  constellations? 

DWAINIE. 

Aye! 

Aye,  they  have  leaped  all  earthland  barriers 

In  mine  own  isle  of  wisdom-working  Wunks: — 

'Twas  Wunkland's  son  that  voyaged  round  the  moon 

And  moored  his  barque  within  the  molten  bays 

Of  bubbling  silver:  And  'twas  Wunkland's  son 

That  talked  with  Mars— unbuckled  Saturn's  belt 

And  tightened  it  in  squeezure  of  such  facts 

Therefrom  as  even  he  dare  not  disclose 

In  full  till  all  his  followers,  as  himself, 

Have  grown  them  wings,  and  gat  them  beaks  and  claws, 

With  plumage  all  bescienced  to  withstand 

All  tensest  flames — glaze-throated,  too,  and  lung'd 

To  swallow  fiercest-spirted  jets,  and  cores 

Of  embered  and  unquenchable  white  heat : 

Twas  Wunkland's  son  that  alchemized  the  dews, 

And  bred  all  colored  grasses  that  he  wist — 

Divorced  the  airs  and  mists  and  caught  the  trick 

Of  azure-tinting  earth  as  well  as  sky : 

Twas  Wunkland's  son  that  bent  the  rainbow  straight 

And  walked  it  like  a  street,  and  so  returned 


OF  THE  NIGHT.  45 

To  tell  us  it  was  made  of  hammered  shine, 
Inlaid  with  strips  of  selvedge  from  the  sun, 
And  burnished  with  the  rust  of  rotten  stars: 
'Twas  Wunkland's  son  that  comprehended  first 
All  grosser  things,  and  took  our  worlds  apart 
And  oiled  their  works  with  theories  that  clicked 
In  glib  articulation  with  the  pulse 
And  palpitation  of  the  systemed  facts. — 
And,  circling  ever  round  the  farthest  reach 
Of  the  remotest  welkin  of  all  truths, 
We  stint  not  our  investigations  to 
Our  worlds  only,    but  query  still  beyond. — 
For  now  our  goolores  say,  below  these  isles 
A  million  million  miles,  are  other  worlds — 
Not  like  to  ours,  but  round,  as  bubbles  are, 
And,  like  them,  ever  reeling  on  through  space, 
And  anchorless  through  all  eternity  ; — • 
Not  like  to  ours,  for  our  isles,  as  they  note, 
Are  living  things  that  fly  about  at  night, 
And  soar  above  and  cling,  throughout  the  day, 
Like  bats,  beneath  the  bent  sills  of  the  skies  : 
And  I  myself  have  heard,  at  dawn  of  moon, 
A  liquid  music  filtered  through  my  dreams, 
As  though  'twere  myriads  of  sweet  voices,  pent 


46  THE  FLYING  ISLANDS 

In  some  o'erhanging  realm,  had  spilled  themselves 

In  streams  of  melody  that  trickled  through 

The  chinks  and  crannies  of  a  crystal  pave, 

Until  the  wasted  juice  of  harmony, 

Slow-leaking  o'er  my  senses,  laved  my  soul 

In  ecstasy  divine:    And  afferhaiks, 

Who  scour  our  coasts  on  missions  for  the  King, 

Declare  our  island's  shape  is  like  the  zhibb's 

When  lolling  in  a  trance  upon  the  air, 

With  open  wings  upslant  and  motionless. 

O  such  a  land  it  is— so  all  complete 

In  all  wise  habitants,  and  knowledge,  lore, 

Arts,  sciences,  perfected  government — 

In  kingly  wisdom,  worth  and  majesty — 

So  furnished  forth  in  all  things  lovable, 

O  Amphine,  love  of  mine,  it  lacks  but  thy 

Sweet  presence  to  make  it  a  paradise? 

[  Takes  up  trentoraine.  ] 
And  shall  I  tell  thee  of  the  home  that  waits 
For  thy  glad  coming,  Amphine? — Listen,  then  ! 


OF  THE  NIGHT.  47 

CHANT-RECITATIVE. 
A  palace  veiled  in  a  glimmering  dusk  ; 

Warm  breaths  of  a  tropic  air, 
Drugged  with  the  odorous  marzhoo's  musk 

And  the  sumptuous  cyncotwaire — 
Where  the  trembling  hands  of  the  lihving's  leaves 

The  winds  caress  and  fawn, 
While  the  dreamy  starlight  idly  weaves 

Designs  for  the  damask  lawn. 

Densed  in  the  depths  of  a  dim  eclipse 

Of  palms,  in  a  flowery  space, 
A  fountain  leaps  from  the  marble  lips 

Of  a  girl,  with  a  golden  vase 
Held  atip  on  a  curving  wrist, 

Drinking  the  drops  that  glance 
Laughingly  in  the  glittering  mist 

Of  her  crystal  utterance. 

Archways  looped  o'er  blooming  walks 

That  lead  through  gleaming  halls ; 
And  balconies  where  the  word-bird  talks 

To  the  tittering  waterfalls  : 


48  THE  FLYING  ISLANDS 

And  casements,  gauzed  with  the  filmy  sheen 

Of  a  lace  that  sifts  the  sight 
Through  a  ghost  of  bloom  on  the  haunted  screen 

That  drips  with  the  dews  of  light. 

Weird,  pale  shapes  of  sculptured  stone, — 

With  marble  nymphs  aga/e 
Ever  in  fonts  of  amber,  sown 

With  seeds  of  gold,  and  sprays 
Of  emerald  mosses,  ever  drowned, 

Where  glimpses  of  shell  and  gem 
Peer  from  the  depths,  as  round  and  round 

The  nautilus  nods  at  them. 

Faces  blurred  in  a  mazy  dance, 

With  a  music  wild  and  sweet, 
Spinning  the  threads  of  the  mad  romance 

That  tangles  the  waltzers'  feet : 
Twining  arms,  and  warm,  swift  thrills 

That  pulse  to  the  melody, 
Till  the  soul  of  the  dancer  dips  and  fills 

In  the  wells  of  ecstasy. 


OF  THE  NIGHT.  49 

Eyes  that  melt  in  a  quivering  ore 

Of  love,  and  the  molten  kiss 
Jetted  forth  of  the  hearts  that  pour 

Their  blood  in  the  molds  of  bliss.— 
Till,  worn  to  a  languor  slumber-deep, 

The  soul  of  the  dreamer  lifts 
A  silken  sail  on  the  gulfs  of  sleep, 

And  into  the  darkness  drifts. 

[The  instrument  falls  from  her  hands — AMPHINE,  in  stress  of 
passionate  delight,  embraces  her.'} 


AMPHINE. 

Thou  art  not  all  of  earth,  O  angel  one ! 
Nor  do  I  far  miswonder  me  an  thou 
Hast  peered  above  the  very  walls  of  Heaven  ! 
What  hast  thou  seen  there? — Didst  on  >Eo  bask 
Thine  eyes  and  clothe  Him  with  new  splendorings? 
And  strove  He  to  fling  back  as  bright  a  smile 
As  thine,  the  while  He  beckoned  thee  within  ? 
And,  tell  me,  didst  thou  meet  an  angel  there 
Alinger  at  the  gates,  nor  entering 
Till  I,  her  brother,  joiner  her? 


50  THE  FLYING  ISL/tNDS 

DWAIN1E. 

Why,  hast  thou 

A  sister  dead? — Truth,  I  have  heard  of  one 
Long  lost  to  thee — not  dead  ? 

AMPHINE. 

Of  her  I  speak, — 

And  dead,  although  we  know  not  certainly, 
We  moan  us  ever  it  must  needs  be  death 
Only  could  hold  her  from  us  such  long  term 
Of  changeless  yearning  for  her  glad  return. 
She  strayed  away  from  us  long,  long  ago.— 
O  and  our  memories  ! — Her  wondering  eyes 
That  seemed  as  though  they  ever  looked  on  things 
We  might  not  see — as  haply  so  they  did, — 
For  she  went  from  us,  all  so  suddenly — 
So  strangely  vanished,  leaving  never  trace 
Of  her  outgoing,  that  I  oftimes  think 
Her  rapt  eyes  fell  along  some  certain  path 
Of  special  glory  paven  for  her  feet, 
And  fashioned  of  /Eo's  supreme  desire 
That  she  might  bend  her  steps  therein  and  so 
Reach  Him  again,  unseen  of  our  mere  eyes. 
My  sweet,  sweet  sister!— lost  to  brother — sire — 


OF  THE  NIGHT.  <-,i 

And,  to  her  heart,  one  dearer  than  all  else, — 
Her  lover— lost  indeed  ! 

DWAINIE. 

Nay,  do  not  grieve 

Thee  thus,  O  loving  heart !    Thy  sister  yet 
May  come  to  thee  in  some  glad  way  the  Fates 
Are  fashioning  the  while  thy  teardrops  fall ! 
So  calm  thee,  while  I  speak  of  thine  own  self. — 
For  I  have  listened  to  a  whistling  bird 
That  pipes  of  waiting  danger.    Didst  thou  note 
No  strange  behavior  of  thy  sire  of  late? 

AMPHINE. 

Aye,  he  is  silent,  and  he  walks  as  one 
In  some  fixed  melancholy,  or  as  one 
Half  waking. 

DWAINIE. 

Aye !  and  doth  he  counsel  not 
With  thee  in  any  wise  pertaining  to 
His  ailings,  or  of  matters  looking  toward 
His  future  purposes,  or  his  intents 
Regarding  thine  own  future  fortunings 
And  his  desires  and  interests  therein  ? 


52  THE  FLYING  ISLANDS 

What  bearing  hath  he  shown  of  late  toward  thee 
By  which  thou  mightst  beframe  some  estimate 
Of  his  mind's  placid  flow  or  turbulent? 
And  hath  he  not  so  spoken  thee  at  times 
Thou  hast  been  'wildered  of  his  words,  or  grieved 
Of  his  strange  manner? 

AMPHINE. 

Once  he  stayed  me  on 

The  palace-stairs  and  whispered,  "  Lo,  my  son, 
Thy  young  reign  draweth  nigh — prepare!  " — So  passed 
And  vanished  as  a  wraith,  so  wan  he  was ! 

DWAINIE. 

And  didst  thou  never  reason  on  this  thing, 
Nor  ask  thyself  what  dims  thy  father's  eye 
And  makes  a  brooding  shadow  of  his  form? 

AMPHINE. 

Why,  there's  a  household  rumor  that  he  dreams 
Death  fareth  ever  at  his  side,  and  soon 
Shall  signal  away. — Butjucklet  saith 
Crestillomeem  hath  said  the  leeches  say 
There  is  no  cause  for  serious  concern  ; 
And  thus  am  I  assured  'tis  nothing  more 


OF  THE  NIGHT.  53 

Than  childish  fancy  of  mine  aging  sire, — 

And  so,  as  now,  I  laugh,  full  reverently, 

And  marvel,  as  1  mark  his  shuffling  gait, 

And  his  bestrangered  air  and  murmurous  lips, 

As  by  he  glideth  to  and  fro,  ha !  ha ! 

Ho  !  ho  ! — I  laugh  me  many,  many  times — 

Mind,  thou,  'tis  reverently  I  laugh — ha  !  ha  !— 

And  wonder,  as  he  glideth  ghostly-wise, 

If  ever  /  shall  waver  as  I  walk, 

And  stumble  o'er  my  beard,  and  knit  my  brows, 

And  o'er  the  dull  mosaics  of  the  pave 

Play  chequers  with  mine  eyes !     Ho !  ho !    Ah !  ha ! 

DWAINIE.     [Aside.] 
How  dare  1  tell  him?    Yet  I  must— I  must ! 

AMPHINE. 

Why,  art  thou,  too,  grown  childish,  that  thou  canst 
Find  thee  waste  pleasure  talking  to  thyself, 
And  staring  frowningly  with  eyes  whose  smiles 

I  need  so  much  ? 

DWAINIE. 

Nay,  rather  say,  their  tears, 

Poor  thoughtless  Prince  !     \_Aside.~]     (My  magic  even  now 
Forecasts  his  kingly  sire's  near  happening 


54  THE  FLYING  ISLANDS 

Of  nameless  hurt  and  ache  and  awful  stress 
Of  agony  supreme,  when  he  shall  stare 
The  stark  truth  in  the  face ! ) 

AMPHINE. 

What — what  mean  you  ? 

DWA1NIE. 

What  mean  I  but  thy  welfare  ?    Why,  I  mean, 
One  hour  agone,  the  Queen,  thy  mother — 

AMPHINE. 

Nay, 
Say  only  "Queen"! 

DWAINIE. 

—The  Queen,  one  hour  agone — 
As  so  I  learned  from  source  I  need  not  say — 
Sent  message  craving  audience  with  the  King 
At  noon  to-night,  within  the  Tower  of  Stars. — 
Thou  knowest,  only  brief  space  following 
The  time  of  her  pent  session  thereso  set 
In  secret  with  the  King  alone,  the  Throne 
Is  set,  too,  to  convene  ;  and  that  the  King 
Hath  lent  his  seal  unto  a  mandate  that, 
Should  he  withhold  his  presence  there,  the  Queen 
Shall  be  empowered  to  preside — to  reign — 


OF  THE  NIGHT.  55 

Solely  endowed  to  work  the  royal  will 

In  lieu  of  the  good  King.     Now,  therefore,  I 

Have  been  advised  that  she,  the  Queen,  by  craft 

Connives  to  hold  him  absent  purposely, 

That  she  may  claim  the  vacancy — for  what 

Covert  design  1  know  not,  but  I  know 

It  augurs  danger  to  you  both,  as  to 

The  Throne  s  own  perpetuity.     \_/tside.~\  (Again 

My  magic  gives  me  vision  terrible: — 

The  Sorceress'  legions  balk  mine  own. — The  King 

Still  hers,  yet  wavering.    O  save  the  King, 

Thou  >Eo !— Render  him  to  us ! ) 

AMPHINE. 

I  feel 
Thou  speakest  truth :  and  yet  how  know  you  this? 

DWAINIE. 

Ask  me  not  that ;  my  lips  are  welded  close. — 
And,  more, — since  I  have  dared  to  speak,  and  thou 
To  listen, — Jucklet  is  accessory, 
And  even  now  is  plotting  for  thy  fall. 
But,  Passion  of  my  Soul !  think  not  of  me,— 
For  nothing  but  sheer  magic  may  avail 
To  work  me  harm  ;  —but  look  thee  to  thyself ! 


56  THE  FLYING  ISLANDS 

For  thou  art  blameless  cause  of  all  the  hate 
That  rankleth  in  the  bosom  of  the  Queen. 
So  have  thine  eyes  unslumbered  ever,  that 
No  step  may  steal  behind  thee — -for  in  this 
Unlooked-of  way  thine  enemy  -will  come  : 
This  much  I  know,  but  for  what  fell  intent 
Dare  not  surmise. — So  look  thee,  night  and  day 
That  none  may  skulk  upon  thee  in  this  wise 
Of  dastardly  attack.  [Aside.~\    (Ha!  Sorceress! 
Thou  palest,  tossing  wild  and  wantonly 
The  smothering  golden  tempest  of  thy  hair.— 
What !  lying  eyes  !  ye  dare  to  utter  tears  ? 
Help  !  help  !    Yield  us  the  King .') 

AMPHINE. 

And  thou,  O  sweet! 

How  art  thou  guarded  and  what  shield  is  thine 
of  safety  ? 

DWAINIE. 

Fear  not  thou  for  me  at  all.— 
Possessed  am  I  of  wondrous  sorcery— 
The  gift  of  Holy  Magi  at  my  birth  : — 
Mine  enemy  must  front  me  in  assault 
And  must  with  mummery  of  speech  assail, 


OF  THE  NIGHT.  57 

And  I  will  know  him  in  first  utterance — 

And  so  may  thus  disarm  him,  though  he  be 

A  giant  thrice  in  vasty  form  and  force.       [Singing  heard.'] 

But,  list!  what  wandering  minstrel  cometh  here 

In  the  young  night? 

VOICE. — [/«  distance — singing. ] 
The  drowsy  eyes  of  the  stars  grow  dim  ; 
The  wamboo  roosts  on  the  rainbow's  rim, 

And  the  moon  is  a  ghost  of  shine  : 
The  soothing  song  of  the  crule  is  done, 
But  the  song  of  love  is  a  soother  one, 

And  the  song  of  love  is  mine. 
Then,  wake  !   O  wake  ! 
For  the  sweet  song's  sake, 

Nor  let  my  heart 
With  the  morning  break  ! 

AMPHINE. 

Some  serenader.    Hist! 
What  meaneth  he  so  early,  and  what  thus 
Within  the  palace  garden-close?    Quick;  here! 
He  neareth !    Soh !    Let  us  conceal  ourselves 
And  mark  his  action,  wholly  unobserved. 

[AMPHINE  and  DWAINIE  enter  bower.] 

5 


58  THE  FLYING  ISLANDS 

VOICE.     [Drawing  nearer.] 
The  mist  of  the  morning,  chill  and  gray, 
Wraps  the  night  in  a  shroud  of  spray  ; 

The  sun  is  a  crimsoti  blot : 
The  moon  fades  fast,  and  the  stars  take  u'ing ; 
The  comet's  tail  is  a  fleeting  thing — 

But  the  tale  of  love  is  not. 
Then,  wake  !    O  wake  ! 
For  the  sweet  song's  sake, 
Nor  let  my  heart 

With  the  morning  break  ! 

[Enter  JUCKLET.] 

JUCKLET. 

Ho  !  ho  !  what  will  my  dainty  mistress  say 
When  I  shall  stand  knee-deep  in  the  wet  grass 
Beneath  her  lattice,  and  with  upturned  eyes 
And  tongue  out-lolling  like  the  clapper  of 
A  bell,  outpour  her  that  ?    I  wonder  now 
If  she  will  not  put  up  her  finger  thus, 
And  say,  "  Hist !  heart  of  mine  !  the  angels  call 
To  thee !  "    Ho  !  ho  !    Or  will  her  blushing  face 
Light  up  her  dim  boudoir  and,  from  her  glass, 
Flare  back  to  her  a  flame  upsprouting  from 
The  hot-cored  socket  of  a  soul  whose  light 


OF  THE  NIGHT.  59 

She  thought  long  since  had  guttered  out? — Ho !  ho ! 

Or,  haply,  will  she  chastely  bend  above — 

A  parian  phantom,  with  its  head  atip 

And  twinkling  fingers  dusting  down  the  dews 

That  glitter  on  the  tarapyzma  vines 

That  riot  round  her  casement — gathering 

Lush  blooms  to  pelt  me  with,  while  I  below 

All  winkingly  await  the  fragrant  shower? 

Ho !  ho !  how  jolly  is  this  thing  of  love ! 

But  how  much  richer,  rarer,  jollier 

Than  all  the  loves  is  this  rare  love  of  mine! 

Why,  my  sweet  Princess  doth  not  even  dream 

I  am  her  lover, — for,  to  here  confess, 

I  have  a  way  of  wooing  all  mine  own 

And  waste  scant  speech  in  creamy  compliment 

And  courtesies  all  gaumed  with  winy  words. — 

In  sooth,  I  do  not  woo  at  all — I  win ! 

How  is  it  now  the  old  duet  doth  glide 

Itself  full  ripplingly  adown  the  grooves 

Of  its  quaint  melody? — And  whoso,  by- 

The-Zyv,  or,  by-the-avy,  or,  for  the  nonce, 

Or,  eke  ye,  per  adventure,  ever  durst 

Render  a  duet  singly  but  myself? 

[.Singing — With  grotesque  mimicry  of  two  •voices.'] 


6o  THE  FLYING  ISLANDS 

JUCKLET'S  DUET. 

How  is  it  you  woo  ? — and  now  answer  me  true,  — 

How  is  it  you  woo  and  you  win  ? 
Why,  to  answer  you  true, — the  first  thing  you  do 

Is  to  simply,  my  dearest — lie  gin. 

But  how  can  I  begin  to  woo  or  to  win 
When  I  don't  know  a  win  from  a  woo? 

Why,  cover  your  chin  -with  your  fan  or  your  fin, 
And  I'll  introduce  them  to  you. 

But  what  if  it  drew  from  my  parents  a  view 

With  my  own  in  no  manner  akin  ? 
No  matter  !— your  mew  shall  be  first  of  the  two, — 

So  I  hasten  to  usher  them  in. 

Nay,  stay !    Shall  I  grin  at  the  woo  or  the  win  ? 

And  what  will  he  do  if  I  do  ? 
Why,  the  woo  will  begin  with  "  How  pleasant  it's  been  !  " 

And  the  win  with  "Delighted  with  you  !  " 

Then  supposing  he  grew  very  dear  to  my  view — 
I'm  speaking,  you  know,  of  the  win  ? 

Why ,  then,  you  should  do  what  he  wanted  you  to, — 
And  now  is  the  time  to  begin. 


OF  THE  NIGHT.  61 

The  time  to  begin?    O  then  usher  him  in— 

Let  him  say  what  he  wants  me  to  do. 
He  is  here. — He  's  a  twin  of  yourself, — /  am  "Win," 

And  you  are,  my  darling,  my  "  IVoo  !  " 

[Capering  and  courtesy  ing  to  feigned  audience  J\ 

That  song  I  call  most  sensible  nonsense ; 
And  if  the  fair  and  peerless  Dwainie  were 
But  here,  with  that  sweet  voice  of  hers,  to  take 
The  part  of  "  Woo,"  I  'd  be  the  happiest  "  Win  " 
On  this  side  of  futurity !    Ho !  ho  ! 

DWAINIE.    \_Asideto  AMPHINE.] 

What  means  he? 

AMPHINE. 

Why,  he  means  that  throatless  head 
Of  his  needs  further  chucking  down  betwixt 
His  cloven  shoulders ! 

[Starts  forward — Dwainie  detaining  him."] 

DWAINIE. 

Nay,  thou  shalt  not  stir ! 
See !  now  the  monster  hath  discovered  our 
Repast.    Hold  !    Let  us  mark  him  further. 


62  THE  FLYING  ISLANDS 

JUCKLET.     [Archly  eyeing  viands.~] 

What! 
A  roasted  wheffle  and  a  toe-spiced  whum, 

Tricked  with  a  larvey  and  a  gherghgling's  tail  !— 
And,  sprit  me  !  wine  enough  to  swim  them  in  ! 
Now  I  should  like  to  put  a  question  to 
The  guests ;  but  as  there  are  none,  I  direct 
Mine  interrogatory  to  the  host.  [Bowing  to  vacancy. ~] 

Am  I  behind-time? — Then  I  can  but  trust 
My  tardy  coming  may  be  overlooked 
In  my  most  active  effort  to  regain 
A  gracious  tolerance  by  service  now : — 
Directing  rapt  attention  to  the  fact 
That  I  have  brought  mine  appetite  along, 
I  can  but  feel,  ho  !  ho  !  that  further  words 
Would  be  a  waste  of  speech. 
[Sits  at  table — pours  out  -wine,  drinks  and  eats  voraciously.  ] 

—There  was  a  time 

When  I  was  rather  backward  in  my  ways 
In  courtly  company  (as  though,  forsooth, 
I  felt  not,  from  my  very  birth,  the  swish 
Of  royal  blood  along  my  veins,  though  bred 
Amongst  the  treacled  scullions  and  the  thralls 
I  shot  from,  like  a  cork,  in  youthful  years, 


OF  THE  NIGHT.  63 

Into  court-favor  by  my  wit's  sheer  stress 

Of  fomentation. — Pah !  the  stench  o'  toil!} 

Aye,  somehow,  as  I  think,  I  Ve  all  outgrown 

That  coarse,  nice  age,  wherein  one  makes  a  meal 

Of  two  estardles  and  a  fork  of  soup. 

Hey !  sanaloo  !    Lest  my  starved  stomach  stand 

Awe-stricken  and  aghast,  with  mouth  agape 

Before  the  rich  profusion  of  this  feast, 

I  lubricate  it  with  a  glass  of  merl 

And  coax  it  on  to  more  familiar  terms 

Of  fellowship  with  those  delectables. 

[Pours  wine  and  holds  up  goblet  with  mock  courtliness.] 
Mine  host ! — Thou  of  the  viewless  presence  and 
Hush-haunted  lip  : — Thy  most  imperial, 
Etherial,  and  immaterial  health  ! 
Live  till  the  sun  dries  up,  and  comb  thy  cares 
With  star-prongs  till  the  comets  fizzle  out 
And  fade  away  and  fail  and  are  no  more ! 

[Drinks  and  refills  goblet.] 
And,  if  thou  wilt  permit  me  to  observe, — 
The  gleaming  shaft  of  spirit  in  this  wine 
Goes  whistling  to  its  mark,  and  full  and  fair 
Zipps  to  the  target-center  of  my  soul ! 
Why,  now  am  I  the  veriest  gentleman 


64  THE  FLYING  ISLANDS 

That  ever  buttered  woman  with  a  smile, 
And  let  her  melt  and  run  and  drip  and  ooze 
All  over  and  around  a  wanton  heart ! 
And  if  my  mistress  bent  above  me  now, 
In  all  my  hideous  deformity, 
I  think  she  would  look  over,  as  it  were, 
The  hump  upon  my  back ;  and  so  forget 
The  kinks  and  knuckles  of  my  crooked  legs, 
In  this  enchanting  smile,  she  needs  must  leap, 
Love-dazzled,  and  fall  faint  and  fluttering 
Within  these  yawning,  all-devouring  arms 
Of  mine!     Ho!  ho!     And  yet  Crestillomeem 
Would  have  me  blight  my  dainty  Dwainie  with 
This  feather  from  the  Devil's  wing  !— But  I 
Am  far  too  full  of  craft  to  spoil  the  eyes 
That  yet  shall  pour  their  love  like  nectar  out 
Into  mine  own, — and  I  am  far  too  deep 
For  royal  wit  to  wade  my  purposes. 

DWAINIE.    [To  AMPHINE.] 
What  can  he  mean  ? 

AMPHINE.     [Chafing  in  suppressed  frenzy .] 

Ha !  to  rush  forward  and 
Tear  out  his  tongue  and  slap  it  in  his  face! 


OF  THE  NIGHT.  65 

DWAINIE.     \_Aside.~] 
Nay,  nay !     Hist  what  he  saith  ! 

JUCKLET. 

How  big  a  fool- 
How  all  magnificent  an  idiot 
Would  I  be  to  blight  her — (my  peerless  one  ! — 
My  very  soul's  soul !)  as  Crestillomeem 
Doth  instigate  me  to,  for  her  hate's  sake — • 
And  inward  jealousy,  as  well,  belike! — 
Wouldst  have  my  Dwainie  blinded  to  my  charms— 
For  charms,  good  sooth,  were  every  several  flaw 
Of  my  malformed  outer-self,  compared 
With  that  his  Handsomeness,  the  Prince  Amphine 
Shall  change  to  at  a  breath  of  my  puff'd  cheek, 
E'en  were  it  weedy-bearded  at  the  time 
With  such  a  stubble  as  a  huntsman  well 
Might  lose  his  spaniel  in  !     Ho  !  ho  !    Ho  !  ho  ! 
I  fear  me,  O  my  coy  Crestillomeem, 
Thine  ancient  coquetry  doth  challenge  still 
Thine  own  vain  admiration  overmuch  ! 
/to  crush  her? — when  thou,  as  certainly, 
Hast  armed  me  to  smite  down  the  only  bar 
That  lies  betwixt  her  love  and  mine?    Ho  !  ho ! 


66  THE  FLYING  ISLANDS 

Hey !  but  the  revel  I  shall  riot  in 

Above  the  beauteous  Prince,  instantuously 

Made  all  abhorrent  as  a  reptiled  bulk  ! 

Ho !  ho !  my  princely  wooer  of  the  fair 

Rare  lady  of  mine  own  superior  choice ! 

Pah !  but  my  very  'maginings  of  him 

Refined  to  that  shamed,  sickening  shape, 

Do  so  beloathe  me  of  him  there  be  qualms 

Expostulating  in  my  forum  now  ! 

Ho !  what  unprincifying  properties 

Of  medication  hath  her  Majesty 

Put  in  my  tender  charge !    Ho  !  ho  !    Ho  !  ho  ! 

Ah,  Dwainie !  sweetest  sweet !  what  shock  to  thee ! — 

I  wonder,  when  she  sees  the  human  toad 

Squat  at  her  feet  and  cock  his  filmy  eyes 

Upon  her  and  croak  love,  if  she  will  not 

Call  me  to  tweezer  him  with  two  long  sticks 

And  toss  him  from  her  path. — O  ho  !    Ho  !  ho ! 

Hell  bend  him  o'er  some  blossom  quick,  that  I 

May  have  one  brother  in  the  flesh  ! 

[Nods  drowsily, ,] 

DWAINIE.    [To  AMPHINE.] 

Ha!    See! 
He  groweth  drunken.— Soh !  Bide  yet  a  spell 


OF  THE  NIGHT.  67 

And  I  will  vex  him  with  my  sorcery: 
Then  shall  we  hence,  for  lo,  the  node  when  all 
Our  subtlest  arts  and  strategies  must  needs 
Be  quickened  into  acts  and  swift  results. 
Now  bide  thou  here,  and  in  mute  silence  mark 
The  righteous  penalty  that  hath  accrued 
Upon  that  dwarfed  monster. 


[She  stands, still  in  concealment  from  the  dwarf,  her  tense  ga^e 
fixed  upon  him  as  though  in  mute  and  painful  act  of  incan 
tation. — JUCKLET  affected  drowsily— yawns  and  mum 
bles  incoherently — stretches,  and  gradually  sinks  at  full 
length  on  the  sward. — DWAINIE  moves  forward — AA\- 
PHINE,  following,  is  about  to  set  foot  contemptuously  on 
sleeper's  breast,  but  is  caught  and  held  away  by  DWAINIE, 
who  imperiously  waves  him  back,  and  still,  in  panto 
mime,  commanding,  bids  him  turn  and  hide  his  face — AM- 
PHINE  obeying  as  though  unable  to  do  otherwise.  DWAI 
NIE  then  unbinds  her  hair,  and  throwing  it  all  forward 
covering  her  face  and  bending  till  it  trails  the  ground,  she 
lifts  to  the  knee  her  dress,  and  so  walks  backward  in  a 
circle  round  the  sleeping  JUCKLET,  crooning  to  herself 
an  incoherent  song.  Then  pausing,  letting  fall  her  gown, 
and  rising  to  full  stature,  waves  her  hands  above  the  sleep 
er's  face,  and  runs  to  AMPHINE,  who  turns  about  and 
ga^es  on  her  with  new  wonderment.] 


68  THE  FLYING  ISLANDS 

DWAINIE.    [To  AMPHINE.] 

Now  shalt  thou 
Look  on  such  scaith  as  thou  hast  never  dreamed. 

[As  she  speaks,  half  averting  her  face  as  with  melancholy  ap 
prehension,  chorus  of  lugubrious  voices  heard  chanting  dis 
cordantly.  ] 

VOICES. 

When  the  fat  moon  smiles, 

And  the  comets  kiss, 

And  the  elves  of  Spirkland  flit, 
The  Whanghoo  twunkers 
A  tune  like  this, 

And  the  nightmares  champ  the  bitt. 

[As  chorus  dies  away,  a  comet,  freighted  with  weird  shapes, 
dips  from  the  night  and  trails  near  JUCKLET'S  sleeping 
figure,  while,  with  attendant  goblin-forms,  two  Nightmares, 
CREECH  and  GRITCHFANG,  alight.— The  comet  hisses, 
switches  its  tail  and  disappears,  while  the  two  goblins  hover 
lu^ingly  o'er  JUCKLET,  who  starts  wide-eyed  and  stares 
fixedly  at  tbem,  with  horribly  contorted  features."] 


OF  THE  NIGHT.  69 

CREECH.    [TOGRITCHFANG.] 

Buzz! 

Buzz!. 

Buzz! 

Buzz! 

Flutter  your  wings  like  your  grandmother  does! 
Tuck  in  your  chin  and  wheel  over  and  wbir-r-r 
Like  a  dickerbug  fast  in  the  web  of  the  wuhrr! 
Reel  out  your  tongue,  and  untangle  your  toes, 
And  rattle  your  claws  o'er  the  bridge  of  his  nose ; 
Tickle  his  ears  with  your  feathers  and  fuzz, 
And  keep  up  a  hum  like  your  grandmother  does  ! 

[JUCKLET  moans  and  clutches  at  air  convulsively.] 

AMPHINE.     [Shuddering.'} 

Most  gruesome  sight !   See  how  the  poor  worm  writhes ! 
How  must  he  suffer ! 

DWA1NIE. 

Aye,  but  good  is  meant — 
A  far  voice  sings  it  so. 

GRITCHFANG.    [7o  CREECH.] 
Let  me  dive  deep  in  his  nostraline  caves, 
And  keep  an  eye  out  as  to  how  he  behaves  : 
Fasten  him  down  while  I  put  him  to  rack — 
And  don't  let  him  flop  from  the  flat  of  his  back  ! 


70  THE  FLYING  ISLANDS 

[Shrinks  to  minute  si^e,  while  goblin  attendants  pluck  from 
shrubbery  a  great  lily-shaped  flower  which  they  invert 
funnel-wise,  with  small  end  at  sleeper's  nostrils,  hoisting 
GRITCHFANG  in  at  top  and  jostling  shape  downward  grad 
ually  from  sight,  and — removing/lower, — voice  o/GRITCH- 
FANG  continues  gleefully  from  within  sleeper's  head.'] 

Ho!  I  have  bored  through  the  floor  of  his  brains, 
And  set  them  all  writhing  with  torturous  pains ; 
And  I  shriek  out  the  prayer,  as  I  whistle  and  whiz, 
I  may  be  the  nightmare  that  my  grandmother  is ! 

\_Reappears,  through  reversal  of  flower-method,  assuming  former 
shape,  crosses  to  CREECH,  and,  joining,  the  twain  dance 
on  sleeper's  stomach  in  broken  time  to  duo.~\ 

DUO. 

Whing! 

Whang! 

So  our  ancestors  sang ! 

And  they  guzzled  hot  blood  and  blew  up  with  a  bang  I— 
But  they  ever  tenaciously  clung  to  the  rule 
To  only  blow  up  in  the  hull  of  a  fool- 
To  fizz  and  explode  like  a  cast-iron  toad 
In  the  cavernous  depths  where  his  victuals  were  stowed — 
When  chances  were  ripest  and  thickest  and  best 
To  burst  every  button-hole  out  of  his  vest! 


OF  THE  NIGHT.  71 

[  They  pause,  float  high  above,  and  fusing  together  into  a  great 
square  iron  weight,  drop  heavily  on  chest  of  sleeper,  who 
moans  piteously.  ] 

AMPHINE.     [Hiding  his  face. ] 

Ah  !  take  me  hence ! 

[DWMWE  leads  him  off,  looking  backward  as  she  goes  andwav- 
ing  her  hands  imploringly  to  CREECH  and  GRITCH- 
FANG,  reassuming  former  shapes,  in  ecstacies  of  insane 
delight.] 

CREECH.    [TOGRITCHFANG.] 

Zipp! 

Zipp! 

Zipp! 

Zipp! 

Sting  his  tongue  raw  and  unravel  his  lip! 

Grope,  on  the  right,  down  his  windpipe,  and  squeeze 

His  liver  as  dry  as  a  petrified  wheeze ! 

[GRITCHFANG — as  before — shrinks  and  disappears  at  sleep 
er's  month. ~\ 

Throttle  his  heart  till  he's  black  in  the  face, 
And  bury  it  down  in  some  desolate  place 
Where  only  remorse  in  pent  agony  lives 
To  dread  the  advice  that  your  grandmother  gives ! 


72  THE  FLYING  ISLANDS 

[The  sleeper  struggles  contortedly,  while  -voice  of  GRITCH- 
FANG  calls  from  within.'] 

GRITCHFANG. 

Ho-ho  !    I  have  clambered  the  rungs  of  his  ribs 
And  be-riddled  his  lungs  into  tatters  and  dribs ; 
And  I  turn  up  the  tube  of  his  heart  like  a  hose 
And  squirt  all  the  blood  to  the  end  of  his  nose ! 
I  stamp  on  his  stomach  and  caper  and  prance, 
With  my  tail  tossing  round  like  a  boomerang-lance! 
And  thus  may  success  ever  crown  my  intent 
To  wander  the  ways  that  my  grandmother  went ! 

[Reappears,  falls  hysterically  in  CREECH'S  outstretched  arms. 
— Then  dance  and  chorus:] 

DUO. 
Whing! 

Whung ! 

So  our  ancestors  sung ! 

And  they  snorted  and  pawed,  and  they  hissed  and  they 

stung,— 

Taking  special  terrific  delight  in  their  work 
On  the  fools  that  they  found  in  the  lands  of  the  Spirk.— 
And  each  little  grain  of  their  powders  of  pain 
They  scraped  up  and  pestled  again  and  again — 
Mixed  in  quadruple  doses  for  gluttons  and  sots, 
Till  they  strangled  their  dreams  with  gung-jibbrious  knots ! 


OF  THE  NIGHT.  73 

\_The  comet  again  trails  past,  upon  -which  the  Nightmares  leap 
and  disappear.  JUCKLET  staggers  to  his  feet  and  glares 
fren^iedly  around — then  starts  for  opposite  exit  of  comet — 
75  there  suddenly  confronted  -with  fiend-faces  in  the  air, 
bewhiskered  with  ragged  purplish  flames  that  flare  audibly 
and  huskily  in  abrupt  alternating  chill  gasps  and  hot  welt- 
erings  of  wind.  He  starts  back  from  them,  reels  and  falls 
prostrate,  groveling  terrifiedly  in  the  dust,  and  chattering, 
•with  eerie  music  accompanying  his  broken  utterance.} 

JUCKLET. 
/F.o !     .rEo !     &o ! 
Thou  that  dost  all  things  know — 

Waiving  all  claims  of  mine  to  dare  to  pray, 
Save  that  I  needs  must : — Lo, 

What  may  I  pray  for?    Yea, 
I  have  not  any  way, 

An  Thou  gainsayest  me  a  tolerance  so. — 
1  dare  not  pray 

Forgiveness — too  great 
My  vast  o'ertoppling  weight 
Of  sinning;  nor  can  1 
Pray  my 

Poor  soul  unscourged  to  go. — 
Frame  T bou  my  prayer,  >£o ! 
6 


74  THE  FLYING  ISLANDS 

What  may  I  pray  for?    Dare 
I  shape  a  prayer, 

In  sooth, 
For  any  canceled  joy 

Of  my  mad  youth, 

Or  any  bliss  my  sin's  stress  did  destroy? 
What  may  I  pray  for — What? — 
That  the  wild  clusters  of  forget-me-not 
And  mignonette 
And  violet 
Be  out  of  childhood  brought, 

And  in  mine  old  heart  set 
A-blooming  now  as  then? — 
With  all  their  petals  yet 
Bediamoned  with  dews— 
Their  sweet,  sweet  scent  let  loose 
Full  sumptuously  again ! 

What  may  I  pray,  >Eo  ! 

For  the  poor  hutched  cot 

Where  death  sate  squat 
Midst  my  first  memories?— Lo ! 
My  mother's  face — (they,  whispering,  told  me  so)- 

That  face !— so  pinchedly 

It  blanched  up,  as  they  lifted  me — 


OF  THE  NIGHT.  75 

Its  frozen  eyelids  would 

Not  part,  nor  could 
Be  ever  wetted  open  with  warm  tears. 
...  Who  hears 
The  prayers  for  all  dead-mother-sakes,  fiLo  \ 

Leastwise  one  mercy : — May 
I  not  have  leave  to  pray 
All  self  to  pass  away — 

Forgetful  of  all  needs 
Mine  own — 

Neglectful  of  all  creeds ; — 

Alone, 
Stand  fronting  Thy  high  throne  and  say: 

To  Thee, 
O  Infinite,  I  pray 

Shield  Thou  mine  enemy ! 

[Music  throughout  supplication  gradually  softens  and  sweetens 
into  utter  gentleness,  with  scene  slow-fading  into  densest 
flight.  ] 

END  ACT  n. 


76  THE  FLYING  ISLANDS 


ACT   III. 

SCENE  I.  Court  of  KRUNO— Royal  Ministers,  Counsel 
ors,  etc.,  in  session.  CRESTILLOMEEM,  in  full  blazonry 
of  regal  attire,  presiding.  She  signals  a  Herald  at  her 
left,  wbo  steps  forward. — Blare  of  trumpets,  greeted  with 
ominous  murmurings  witbin,  blent  with  tumult  from  with- 
out. 

HERALD. 

Hist,  ho  !     Ay,  ay !     Ay,  ay  ! — Her  Majesty, 
The  All-Glorious  and  Ever-Gracious  Queen, 
Crestillomeem,  to  her  most  loyal,  leal 
And  right  devoted  subjects,  greeting  sends— 
Proclaiming,  in  the  absence  of  the  King, 
Her  royal  presence — 

\_Voice  of  Herald  fails  abruptly — utterly. — A  breathless  lush 
falls  sudden  on  the  court — A  sense  oppressive — ominous — 
affects  the  throng.  Weird  music  heard  of  unseen  instru 
ments.] 

HERALD.     \_Huskily  striving  to  be  heard.'] 
Hist,  ho !  Ay,  ay !  Ay,  ay ! — Her  Majesty, 
The  All-Glorious  and  Ever-Gracious  Queen, 
Crestillomeem — 


OF  THE  NIGHT.  77 

[The  Queen  gasps,  and  clutches  at  Herald,  mutely  signing 
him  to  silence,  ber  staring  eyes  fixed  on  a  shadowy  figure, 
mistily  developing  before  ber  into  wraith-like  form  and  like 
ness  of  the  Tune-Fool,  SPRAIVOLL.  The  shape— evi 
dently  invisible  and  voiceless  to  all  senses  but  the  Queen's 
— wavers  vaporish  ly  to  and  fro  before  her,  moaning  and 
crooning  in  infinitely  sweet-sad  minor  cadences  a  mystic 
song.  ] 

WRAITH-SONG  OF  SPRAIVOLL. 

/  will  not  hear  the  dying  word 

Of  any  friend,  nor  stroke  the  wing 
Of  any  little  wounded  bird. 

.  .  .  Love  is  the  deadest  thing  ! 

I  wist  not  if  I  see  the  smile 

Of  prince  or  wight,  in  court  or  lane. — 

/  only  know  that  after-while 
He  will  not  smile  again. 

Tbe  summer  blossom,  at  my  feet, 
Swims  backward,  drowning  in  tbe  grass. — 

/  will  not  slay  to  name  it  sweet — 
Sink  out !  and  let  me  pass  ! 


78  THE  FLYING  ISLANDS 

I  lave  no  mind  to  feel  the  touch 

Of  gentle  hands  on  brow  and  hair. — 

The  lack  of  this  once  pained  me  much, 
And  so  I  have  a  care. 

Dead  weeds,  and  husky-rustling  leaves 
That  beat  the  dead  boughs  where  ye  ding, 

And  old  dead  nests  beneath  the  eaves — 
Love  is  the  deadest  thing  ! 

Ah  !  once  I  fared  not  all  alone ; 

And  once-  -no  matter,  rain  or  snow  ! — 
The  stars  of  summer  ever  shone — 

Because  I  loved  him  so  ! 

With  always  tremblings  in  his  hands, 
And  always  blushes  unaware, 

And  always  ripples  down  the  strands 
Of  his  long  yellow  hair. 

I  needs  must  weep  a  little  space, 
Remembering  his  laughing  eyes 

And  curving  lip,  and  lifted  face 
Of  rapture  and  surprise. 


OF  THE  NIGHT.  79 

O  joy  is  dead  in  every  part, 

And  life  and  hope ;  and  so  I  sing : 
In  all  the  graveyard  of  my  heart 

Lore  is  the  deadest  thing  ! 

\_With  dying  away  of  song,  apparition  of  SPRAIVOLL  slowly 
vanishes.  CRESTILLOMEEM  turns  dazedly  to  throng, 
and  with  labored  effort  strives  to  reassume  imperious  air. — 
Signs  for  wine  and  tremulously  drains  goblet — sinks  back 
in  throne  with  feigned  complacency,  mutely  waving  Her 
ald  to  proceed.] 


HERALD.     {.Mechanically.} 

Hist,  ho!    Ay,  ay  !    Ay,  ay!  — Her  Majesty, 

The  All-Glorious  and  Ever-Gracious  Queen, 

Crestillomeem,  to  her  most  loyal,  leal 

And  right  devoted  subjects,  greeting  sends 

Proclaiming,  in  the  absence  of  the  King, 

Her  royal  presence,  as  by  him  empowered 

To  sit  and  occupy,  maintain  and  hold, 

And  therefrom  rule  the  Throne,  in  sovereign  state, 

And  work  the  royal  \\\\\— [Con fusion. ~\   Hist,  ho !  Ay,  ay ! 

Ay,  ay !— And  be  it  known,  the  King,  in  view 

Of  his  approaching  dissolution — 


8o  THE  FLYING  ISLANDS 

[Sensation  among  Counselors,  etc.,  within,  and  wild  tumult 
without  and  cries  "Long  live  the  King  !  "  and  "Treason !  " 
"Intrigue!"  "Sorcery!"  CRESTILLOMEEM,  in  sup 
pressed  ire,  waving  silence,  and  Herald  striving  to  be 
heard.  ] 

HERALD. 

Hist,  ho!  Ay,  ay!  Ay,  ay! — The  King,  in  view 

Of  his  approaching  dissolution,  hath 

Decreed  this  instrument — this  royal  scroll 

[Unrolling  and  displaying  scroll.] 

With  royal  seal  thereunto  set  by  Krung's 

Most  sacred  act  and  sign- 

\General  sensation  within,  and  growing  tumult  without,  with 
wrangling  cries  of  "Plot!"  "Treason!"  "Conspiracy .'" 
and"Down  with  /foQueen!  "  "Downwith  the  usurper ! " 
"Down  with  the  Sorceress ! '"] 

CRESTILLOMEEM.    \_wndiy.~} 

Who  dares  to  cry 

"  Conspiracy !  "  Bring  me  the  traitor-knave ! 
[Growing  confusion  without — sound  of  rioting. — Voice,  "Let  me 
betaken!    Let  me  be  taken!"     Enter  Guards,  dragging 
JUCKLET  forward,  wild-eyed  and  hysterical— the  Queen's 
ga^e  fastened  on  him  wonderingly.  ] 

CRESTILLOMEEM.    [To  Guards.] 

Why  bring  ye  Jucklet  hither  in  this  wise? 


OF  THE  NIGHT.  81 

GUARD. 

Because  'tis  he  who  cries  "  Conspiracy !  " 
And  who  incites  the  mob  without  with  cries 
Of  "Plot!"  and  "Treason!" 

CRESTILLOMEEM.    [starting.'] 

Ha !    Can  this  be  true? 
1  '11  not  believe  it !— Jucklet  is  my  fool, 
But  not  so  vast  a  fool  that  he  would  tempt 
His  gracious  Sovereign's  ire.     [To  Guards.]    Let  him  be 
freed ! 

\_Tbcn  to  JUCKLET,  with  mock  service.} 
Stand  hither,  O  my  Fool ! 

JUCKLET.     [To  Queen.] 

What!  I,  thy  fool? 

Ho  !  ho !     Tby  fool? — ho !  ho  !— Why,  tlou  art  mine! 
[Confusion — Cries  of  "  Strike  down  the  traitor  !  "    JUCKLET — 

wrenching  himself  from  grasp  of  officers.] 
Back  all  of  ye  !    I  have  not  waded  Hell 
That  1  should  fear  your  puny  enmity  ! 
Here  will  I  give  ye  proof  of  all  I  say  ! 

[Presses  toward  throne,  wedging  his  opposers  left  and  right — 
CRESTILLOMEEM  sits  as  though  stricken  speechless, 
waving  him  back — JUCKLET,  fairly  fronting  her,  with 
folded  arms,  to  throng  continues.^ 


82  THE  FLYING  ISLANDS 

Lo !  do  I  here  defy  her  to  lift  up 
Her  voice  and  say  that  Jucklet  speaks  a  lie. 
[At  sign  of  Queen,  officers,  unperceived,  close  warily  behind 
htm.] 

And,  further— 1  pronounce  the  document 
That  craven  Herald  there  holds  in  his  hand 
A  forgery— a  trick— and  dare  the  Queen, 
Here  in  my  listening  presence,  to  command 
Its  utterance ! 

CRESTILLOMEEM.    \WiWy  rising.} 

Hold,  hireling  !    Traitor !— Fool  !— 
The  Queen  thou  dost  in  thy  mad  boasts  insult 
Shall  utter  first  thy  doom  ! 

[JUCKLET,  seized  from  behind  by  Guards,  is  hurled  face  up 
ward  on  the  dais  at  her  feet,  while  a  minion  with  drawn 
sword  pressed  close  against  his  breast,  stands  over  him.] 

—Ere  we  proceed 

With  graver  matters,  let  this  demon-knave 
Be  sent  back  home  to  hell. 

[  With  awful  stress  of  ire,  form  quivering,  eyes  glittering  and 
features  twitched  and  ashen.  ] 

Give  me  the  sword, — 
The  insult  hath  been  mine— so  even  shall 
The  vengeance  be  ? 


OF  THE  NIGHT.  83 

[As  CRESTILLOMEEM  seizes  sword  and  bends  forward  to 
strike,  JUCKLET,  with  superhuman  effort,  frees  his  hand, 
and,  with  a  sudden  motion  and  an  incoherent  muttering, 
flings  object  in  his  assailant's  face,—  CRESTILLOMEEM 
staggers  backward,  dropping  sword,  and  with  arms  tossed 
aloft,  shrieks,  totters  and  falls  prone  upon  the  pave.  In 
confusion  following  JUCKLET  mysteriously  vanishes ;  and 
as  the  bewildered  Courtiers  lift  the  fallen  Queen,  a  clear, 
piercing  voice  of  thrilling  sweetness  heard  singing.] 

VOICE. 
The  pride  of  noon  must  wither  soon — 

The  dusk  of  death  must  fall ; 
Yet  out  of  darkest  night  the  moon 

Shall  blossom  over  all ! 

[For  an  instant  a  dense  cloud  envelopes  empty  throne — then 
gradually  lifts,  discovering  therein  KRUNG  seated,  in 
royal  panoply  and  state,  with  JUCKLET  in  act  of  present 
ing  scepter  to  him. — Blare  of  trumpets,  and  chorus  of 
Courtiers,  Ministers,  Heralds,  etc.] 

CHORUS. 

All  hail!     Long  live  the  King  ! 

KRUNG.  [To  throng,  with  grave  salutation.] 
Through  ^o's  own  great  providence,  and  through 
The  intervention  of  an  angel  whom 


84  THE  FLYING  ISLANDS 

\  long  had  deemed  forever  lost  to  me, 

Once  more  thy  favored  Sovereign,  do  I  greet 

And  tender  ye  my  blessing,  O  most  good 

And  faith-abiding  subjects  of  my  realm ! 

In  common,  too,  with  thy  long-suffering  King, 

Have^  long  suffered,  blamelessly  as  he ; 

Now  therefore,  know  ye  all  what,  until  late, 

I  knew  not  of  myself,  and  with  me  share 

The  rapturous  assurance  that  is  mine, 

That,  for  all  time  to  come,  are  we  restored 

To  thi  old  glory  and  most  regal  pride 

And  opulence  and  splendor  of  our  realm. 

[  Turning  with  pained  features  to  the  strangely-stricken  Queen.] 

There  have  been,  as  ye  needs  must  know,  strange  spells 

And  wicked  sorceries  at  work  within 

The  very  dais-boundaries  of  the  Throne. 

Lo!  then,  behold  thy  harrier  and  mine, 

And  with  me  grieve  for  the  self-ruined  Queen 

Who  grovels  at  my  feet,  blind,  speechless,  and 

So  stricken  with  a  curse  herself  designed 

Should  light  upon  Hope's  fairest  minister. 

[Motions  attendants,  who  lead  away  CRESTILLOMEEM — 
The  King  gating  after  her,  overmastered  with  stress  of 
his  emotions.— He  leans  heavily  on  throne,  as  though  ob- 


OF  THE  NIGHT.  85 

livious  to  all  surroundings,  and  shaping  into  speech  his 
varying  thought,  as  in  a  trance,  speaks  as  though  witless 
of  both  utterance  and  auditor.  ~\ 

I  loved  her. — Why?    I  never  knew. — Perhaps 

Because  her  face  was  fair.— Perhaps  because 

Her  eyes  were  blue  and  wore  a  weary  air. 

Perhaps !    Perhaps  because  her  limpid  face 

Was  eddied  with  a  restless  tide,  wherein 

The  dimples  found  no  place  to  anchor  and 

Abide.    Perhaps  because  her  tresses  beat 

A  froth  of  gold  about  her  throat,  and  poured 

In  splendor  to  the  feet  that  ever  seemed 

Afloat.    Perhaps  because  of  that  wild  way 

Her  sudden  laughter  overleapt  propriety ; 

Or— who  will  say, — perhaps  the  way  she  wept 

Ho ! — have  ye  seen  the  swollen  heart  of  summer 

Tempest,  o'er  the  plain,  with  throbs  of  thunder 

Burst  apart  and  drench  the  earth  with  rain?    She 

Wept  like  that— And  to  recall,  with  one  wild  glance 

Of  memory,  our  last  love-parting—tears 

And  all— It  thrills  and  maddens  me !    And  yet 

My  dreams  will  hold  her,  flushed  from  lifted  brow 

To  finger-tips,  with  passion's  ripest  kisses 

Crushed  and  mangled  on  her  lips  .  .  .  O  woman !  while 


86  THE  FLYING  ISLANDS 

Your  face  was  fair,  and  heart  was  pure,  and  lips 
Were  true,  and  hope  as  golden  as  your  hair, 
I  should  have  strangled  you  ! 

[As  KRUNG,  ceasing  to  speak,  piteously  lifts  his  face,  SPRAI- 
VOLL  all  suddenly  appears,  in  space  left  vacant  by  the 
Queen,  and  kneeling  and  kissing  the  King's  hand.— He 
bends  in  tenderness,  kissing  her  brow— then  lifts  and  seats 
her  at  his  side.  Speaks  then  to  throng.] 

Good  Subjects— Lords : 
Behold  in  this  sweet  woman  here  my  child, 
Whom,  years  agone,  the  cold,  despicable 
Crestillomeem— by  baleful,  wicked  arts 
And  gruesome  spells  and  fearsome  witcheries, 
Did  spirit  off  to  some  strange  otherland, 
Where,  happily,  a  Wunkland  Princess  found 
Her,  and  undid  the  spell  by  sorcery 
More  potent — aye,  Divine,  since  it  works  naught 
But  good— the  gift  of  >Eo,  to  right  wrong. 
This  magic  dower  the  Wunkland  Princess  hath 
Enlisted  in  our  restoration  here, 
In  secret  service,  till  this  joyful  hour 
Of  our  complete  deliverance.    Even  thus. — 
Lo,  let  the  peerless  Princess  now  appear! 


OF  THE  NIGHT.  87 

[He  lifts  scepter,  and  a  gust  of  melodv,  divinely  beautiful, 
sweeps  through  the  court. —  The  star  above  the  throne 
loosens  and  drops  slowly  downward,  bursting  like  a  bubble 
on  the  scepter-tip,  and,  issuing  therefrom,  AMPHINE  and 
DWA1NIE,  hand-in-hand,  kneel  at  the  feet  of  KRUNG, 
who  bends  above  them  with  bis  blessing,  u'bile  JUCKLET 
capers  wildly  round  tbe  group.] 

JUCKLET. 

Ho !  ho !  but  I  could  shriek  for  very  joy ! 
And  though  my  recent  rival,  fair  Amphine, 
Doth  even  now  bend  o'er  a  blossom,  I, 
Besprit  me !  have  no  lingering  desire 
To  meddle  with  it,  though  with  but  one  eye 
I  slept  the  while  she  backward  walked  around 
Me  in  the  garden. 

[AMPHINE  dubiously  smiles— JUCKLET  blinks  and  leers— 
and  DWAINIE  bites  ber  finger.] 

KRUNG. 

Peace !  good  Jucklet !    Peace ! 
For  this  is  not  a  time  for  any  jest. — 
Though  the  old  order  of  our  realm  hath  been 
Restored,  and  though  restored  my  very  life— 
Though  I  have  found  a  daughter,— I  have  lost 


88          THE  FLYING  ISLANDS  OF  THE  NIGHT. 

A  son— for  Dwainie,  with  her  sorcery, 
Will,  on  the  morrow,  carry  him  away. 
'Tis  ^Eo's  largess,  as  our  love  is  His, 
And  our  abiding  trust  and  gratefulness. 


THE  END. 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGION* 


A    000028960     3 


